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>  with  Washington 
is  based  upon  the 
^well-known  woman, 
The  catastrophe 
:  great  lady's  ambi- 
The  book  will  be  of 
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The 

Washingtonian< 

Pauline 

Bradford 

Mackie 


Frontispiece!)^ 
PhilipR.Goochmn 


PAGE 


The  Washingtonians 

'Bradford  zMacki 


Pauline  Bradford  Mackie's  new  novel  deals  with  Washington 
official  society  in  the  early  sixties.  The  plot  is  based  upon  the 
career  (not  long  since  ended)  of  a  brilliant  and  well-known  woman, 
who  was  at  that  time  a  power  in  official  circles.  The  catastrophe 
which  forms  the  turning-point  is  the  wreck  of  the  great  lady's  ambi- 
tion, which  was  to  make  her  father  President.  The  book  will  be  of 
interest  in  the  insight  it  affords  into  history,  which  is,  upon  the  per- 
sonal side,  as  yet  unwritten,  and  will  please  through  the  charm  of  its 
love  story  between  the  niece  of  a  member  of  Lincoln's  Cabinet  and 
his  private  secretary. 


The  Washingtonians 


"Works  of 

Pauline  Bradford  Mackie 


Mademoiselle  de  Berny 

A  Story  of  Valley  Forge 

Ye  Lyttle  Salem  Maide 

A  Story  of  Witchcraft 

A  Georgian  Actress 
The  Washingtonians 


L.  C  PAGE  &  COMPANY 
200  Summer  Street,     Boston,  Mass. 


"THE     PRESIDENT    WAITED    PATIENTLY/ 


(.See  page  302.) 


The  Washingtonians 


By 

Pauline  Bradford  Mackie 

(Mrs.  Herbert  Miiller  Hopkins) 

Author  of 

Mademoiselle  de  Berny,"  "Ye  Lyttle  Salem 
Maide,"  "  A  Georgian  Actress,"  etc. 


With  a  Frontispiece  by 
Philip  R.    Goodwin 


BOSTON 
L.    C.    PAGE    6-   COMPANY 

MDCCCCII 


Copyright,  TQOI 
BY  L.  C.  PAGE  AND  COMPANV 

(INCORPORATED) 
All  rights  reserved 


Colonial  $rrs3 

Electrotyped  and  Printed  by  C.  H.  Simonds  &  Co. 
Boston.  Mass  .  U.  S.  A. 


THIS   STORY,   WHICH   HER   LOVING   SYMPATHY    INSPIRED, 

IS   DEDICATED   BY 
"ONE  OF  HER  CHILDREN" 


^vt~t-^»fr»0»» 


The  Washingtonians 


Chapter    I 

MRS.  MATTHEWS  and  her  father's 
private  secretary  sat  on  the  upper  step 
of  the  low  verandah.  The  two  had  been 
gossiping  idly  for  an  hour  past,  and  they 
still  lingered  with  the  pleasant  languor  of  the 
Indian  summer  afternoon. 

The  place  had  a  quaint  air,  homelike,  al- 
though it  suggested  an  old-fashioned  country 
courthouse.  From  the  four  fluted  white  pillars 
the  Virginia  creeper  hung  scarlet,  and  its  ripe 
purple  berries  when  they  dropped  left  a  stain 
like  wine  on  the  floor  of  the  porch.  The 
great  front  door  stood  hospitably  open.  Above 
the  lintel  was  the  sunburst  of  glass,  then  the 
fashion,  and  down  either  side  of  the  door  were 
panel  windows.  The  ground  in  front  sloped 
by  long  and  gentle  reaches  to  the  country 
road.  Two  stiff  rows  of  Lombardy  poplars 
bordered  the  gravelled  driveway. 

Mrs.  Matthews  yawned.  "  How  stupid 
you  are,"  she  remarked.  "  You  haven't  said 
anything  for  half  an  hour  at  least.  I've  often 


The  Washingtonians 


thought  what  a  pleasant  time  I  might  have 
if  other  people  were  as  interesting  and  good- 
natured  as  I  am  myself." 

"  I  always  said  you  were  good-natured," 
Prentiss  answered,  stooping  to  select  some 
pebbles  from  the  driveway. 

"  Oh,  I  don't  mind  what  you  think,"  she 
retorted.  "  There  are  those  who  find  me  fas- 
cinating. I  suppose  I  ought  to  go  in  and 
dress  for  dinner,  but  the  day  is  so  delicious. 
Look  into  what  drifts  the  leaves  have  blown. 
We  must  have  a  bonfire  supper-party  and 
roast  potatoes.  And  how  yellow  that  late  maple 
is !  What  are  you  going  to  do  with  those 
stones  ?  Play  hop-scotch  ?  You'd  better  call 
Virginia.  You  two  are  such  children." 

He  glanced  up  quickly.  His  face,  melan- 
choly in  repose,  was  charming  when  he  smiled. 
"  I  merely  had  an  idea  of  how  I  wanted  to 
group  a  scene  in  my  new  play.  I'll  show 
you  in  a  minute."  He  drew  out  his  pencil 
and  marked  a  space  carefully  on  the  floor. 

She  watched  him,  smiling.  He  had  his 
overcoat  thrown  lightly  around  his  shoulders, 
but  had  not  put  on  his  hat.  "You  have 
such  old-fashioned  hair,  David,  just  the  kind 
of  silky,  chestnut  ringlets  the  young  minister 
always  had  in  the  sentimental  novels  our  grand- 
mothers used  to  read.  Suppose  you  had  pink 
cheeks  and  china  blue  eyes  as  well  ?  Wouldn't 
you  be  ridiculous  ?  " 


The  Washingtonians 


"  Do  you  think  it's  nice  of  you  to  say 
that  ? "  he  protested,  half-laughing,  but  his 
gray  eyes  sober  with  thought.  "  Let  me  see. 
How  was  I  going  to  have  that  ?  Oh,  now  I 
know.  This  is  the  stage,  of  course."  He 
made  some  dots  within  the  enclosed  space. 
"  This  is  a  table.  Over  here  are  two  chairs, 
and  another  one  19  here.  Now  here's  my  sofa 
for  my  lovers.  This  is  to  be  a  modern  play  in 
blank  verse,  but  it's  difficult  to  make  it  con- 
vincing in  a  prose  age.  Still,  I  shall  succeed 
in  time,  I  know.  This  is  my  heroine,  modern, 
ambitious,  beautiful,  your  style." 

She  smiled. 

"  Still,  not  of  a  beauty  which  would  appeal 
to  the  poet.  She  shall  typify  a  certain  grow- 
ing class  of  American  women  possessed  of  an 
egotism  so  extreme  as  to  approach  greatness." 

"  Really  and  truly,  David,"  put  in  Mrs. 
Matthews,  her  beautiful  eyes  twinkling,  "  I've 
often  wondered  where  you  got  your  nice  dis- 
position." 

"  And  this  big  stone,"  he  continued,  "  is  my 
heroine's  father,  a  man  of  tremendous  heart 
and  brain.  This  smooth  little  fellow  is  my 
villain.  We'll  call  him,  say,  Senator  —  " 

"  Never  mind  the  name,"  she  interrupted. 
"  Who's  this  ?  " 

"  That's  Countess  Polonski,  but  I  don't 
know  what  to  do  with  her.  She's  all  that  is 
desirable  to  give  the  richness  of  a  foreign  back- 


The  Washingtonians 


ground.  Her  husband  doesn't  come  in  this 
act.  I'll  reserve  him.  She's  just  the  person 
to  give  colour  to  my  play,  and  I've  had  her 
say  lots  of  witty  things,  but  I  can't  make  her 
do  anything  except  walk  around  like  a  figure- 
piece  on  which  I've  hung  my  pertinent  say- 
ings. It's  rather  perplexing,  but  I  won't  give 
her  up.  I'll  wait  to  see  if  she  won't  do  some- 
thing positive  in  real  life." 

"  You  make  me  think  of  a  big  spider, 
David,"  said  Mrs.  Matthews,  "and  your  aw- 
ful modern  play  is  your  web,  your  pretty 
parlour,  which  you  are  inviting  all  us  poor 
flies  to  enter.  I  shall  warn  Katrina  to  commit 
no  indiscretion.  Who's  this  ?  " 

"  That's  Virginia." 

"  Oh,  Virginia." 

They  both  laughed. 

"  She's  a  precious  child,"  said  Prentiss. 
"  But  take  her  out.  She  doesn't  come  in  this 
scene.  This  is  my  heroine's  husband.  He's 
rich." 

"  But  the  plot,"  she  interposed,  impatiently, 
"  tell  me  what  it  is.  I  can  see  you're  putting 
us  all  in,  and  I  don't  think  it's  a  bit  nice  of 
you.  But  what  I  want  to  know  is  the  plot. 
All  I  ask  of  you  is  not  to  make  me  too  sweet. 
I  can  carry  off  a  touch  of  malice,  but  don't 
make  me  out  a  gentle  Amelia." 

"  My  plot  isn't  fully  developed.  The  only 
parts  I  have  finished  are  my  love  scenes,  and 


The  Washingtonians 


they  made  themselves.  The  play  has  a  polit- 
ical bearing  and  is  to  be  laid  right  here  in 
the  Capital.  I  shall  manufacture  some  scheme 
which  my  heroine  shall  divulge  only  to  the 
villain  in  order  to  gain  his  assistance.  But 
this,  you  see,  gives  rise  to  a  delicate  question. 
Should  or  should  not  the  lady  repose  confi- 
dence in  a  man  other  than  her  husband  ? " 
He  drew  out  his  note-book.  "  I  must  jot 
down  that  grouping.  It  promises  action." 

His  companion  rose.  As  she  stepped  by 
her  skirts  brushed  the  pebbles  wide.  "  Oh, 
I'm  so  sorry,"  she  said,  laughing,  "  but  acci- 
dents will  happen  when  playwrights  become 
impertinent." 

As  she  entered  the  spacious  hall  which  ran 
straight  through  the  centre  of  the  house,  she 
saw  that  the  further  door  was  open  and  that 
the  negroes  were  loitering  on  the  back  steps. 
Her  own  maid  was  standing  with  a  basket  of 
snowy  clothes  on  her  head,  her  arms  akimbo, 
eyeing  saucily  the  butler  who  was  talking  ex- 
citedly. The  other  servants  looked  on  grin- 
ning. 

"  Ellen,"  called  Mrs.  Matthews,  "  is  your 
ironing  finished?"  Her  voice,  perfect  in 
quality,  had  the  ring  of  authority.  There 
was  a  scattering  and  disappearance  of  the 
idlers. 

She  went  slowly  up  the  broad  staircase  and 
down  the  hall  to  her  cousin's  room. 


The  Washlngtonians 


"  Come  in,"  called  a  happy  voice  in  answer 
to  her  rap.  "  The  door  isn't  locked,  is  it  ?  " 

She  entered  a  small  room,  in  which  the  cur- 
tains had  been  carefully  drawn  to  exclude  the 
daylight.  The  wax  candles  on  the  brackets 
of  the  mahogany  bureau  were  burning.  A 
girl  stood  in  front  of  the  mirror,  draping  a 
black  lace  scarf  about  her  shoulders.  They 
were  white,  pretty  shoulders,  girlishly  thin. 
Her  thick  brown  hair  was  knotted  low  in  the 
nape  of  her  neck.  Lashes,  long  and  curling, 
gave  a  starry  look  to  her  blue  eyes. 

She  hurriedly  drew  off  the  scarf.  "  I  was 
just  trying  to  see  how  this  old  thing  would 
look  at  night."  She  blew  out  the  candles. 
"  Still,  Portia,  it's  real  lace  even  if  it  is  old, 
and  I  never  can  feel  anything  but  a  lady  if 
I  have  on  a  bit  of  real  lace,  can  you  ?  " 

Virginia  was  embarrassed.  Attention  to  her 
toilet  in  the  presence  of  such  a  woman  as  her 
cousin  seemed  presumption,  as  if  she  should 
dream  of  being  anything  but  insignificant  in 
the  presence  of  such  beauty. 

Mrs.  Matthews  seated  herself  at  the  window 
and  pushed  open  the  green-shuttered  blinds. 
"  No  wonder  your  cheeks  are  so  flushed,"  she 
remarked,  "  the  air  is  stifling  in  here." 

"  Are  they  too  pink  ?  "  asked  Virginia,  anx- 
iously, "  I  did  put  on  just  a  touch.  Does 
it  look  unnatural  ?  " 

"  You  vain  child  !     At  your  age  !  "  said  her 


The  Washingtonians 


cousin.  "  I  ought  to  be  dressing  myself.  I 
merely  dropped  in  to  see  if  you'd  arranged  the 
flowers  for  the  table.  I've  been  for  a  stroll 
and  I  brought  home  this  splendid  goldenrod. 
Will  you  attend  to  it  ?  " 

Virginia  took  the  feathery  sprays,  and,  sit- 
ting down  on  the  edge  of  the  bed,  began  to 
rearrange  them.  "  What  a  lovely  yellow ! 
Uncle  Phineas  likes  the  goldenrod  so  much, 
doesn't  he?  I'll  put  this  in  the  big  Canton 
bowl  in  the  hall." 

The  low  western  sunlight  that  Mrs.  Mat- 
thews had  let  into  the  room  seemed  to  con- 
centrate upon  the  gorgeous  bloom,  which  filled 
Virginia's  lap  and  cast  a  saffron  reflection  upon 
her  naked  arms  and  shoulders  and  bending 
face.  She  laughed. 

"  Portia  dear,"  she  cried,  "  I  do  love  beauti- 
ful colour  so  much.  Gloomy  colours  make 
me  sad.  If  I  could  only  wear  yellow,  but 
it  doesn't  become  me,  does  it  ?  " 

"Just  one  thing  more,"  said  Mrs.  Mat- 
thews, "then  I  must  go.  If  Tom  should 
bring  Mr.  La  Cerf  home  for  dinner,  —  he  said 
he  was  going  to  look  him  up  to-day,  and  Tom 
never  can  meet  a  friend  without  urging  him 
to  come  home  with  him  to  dinner,  you  know, 
—  I  want  you  to  keep  him  out  of  my  way 
and  give  me  an  opportunity  to  talk  to  Senator 
Chadwick." 

"Yes,   indeed,"   cried   Virginia,   casting  the 


8  The  Washingtonians 

goldenrod  on  the  bed  and  going  over  to  the 
mirror.  She  forgot  her  cousin's  beauty  and 
spoke  as  woman  to  woman.  "You.  don't 
think  my  neck  is  too  thin  to  wear  that  scarf, 
do  you  ?  "  she  inquired  anxiously.  She  picked 
up  her  handglass  and  held  it  so  as  to  see  the 
back  of  her  head  in  the  large  mirror.  "  I 
don't  know,  though.  I'm  pretty  thin.  Still, 
I'm  artistic.  Take  the  lines  of  my  head  and 
neck.  I  haven't  the  blood  of  the  Fairfaxes  in 
me  for  nothing.  I  guess  I'll  wear  it.  Portia," 
she  added  as  her  cousin  was  leaving  the  room, 
"would  you  call  Mr.  La  Cerf  the  handsomest 
man  you  ever  saw  ?  " 

"  For  an  Indian,  yes,"  answered  Mrs.  Mat- 
thews. "  I  always  feel  when  my  back  is  toward 
him  as  if  there  were  a  panther  at  my  heels. 
I  suppose  it's  the  racial  prejudice.  Besides, 
he  always  makes  me  feel  as  if  I  ought  to  be 
a  missionary.  He's  so  far  from  being  really 
civilised." 

"  He's  civilised,"  protested  Virginia;  "he's 
been  to  Harvard  and  he's  a  good  churchman." 

"  Fiddlesticks  !  "  retorted  Mrs.  Matthews. 
"  He's  perfectly  uncultured  and  he's  super- 
stitious. He  enjoys  the  rites  of  the  Church 
as  he  would  a  snake-dance  or  pow-wow." 

She  found  her  maid,  a  pretty  mulatto,  put- 
ting away  the  clean  clothes. 

"  Do  that  later,  Ellen,"  she  said.  "  Go  down 
and  see  if  the  papers  have  come." 


The  Washingtonians 


While  the  girl  brushed  out  her  mistress's 
long  and  shining  hair  and  carried  it  up  deftly 
in  a  golden  twist  on  her  head,  Mrs.  Matthews 
read  the  New  York  morning  papers  which  had 
just  arrived.  She  reached  over  and  took  the 
scissors  from  her  dressing-table  and  cut  out  sev- 
eral articles.  The  mutilated  papers  fell  rustling 
about  the  kneeling  maid,  who  with  all  her  race's 
love  of  luxury  drew  on  with  caressing  touches 
the  white  silk  stockings  and  fastened  the  pearl- 
embroidered  slippers. 

When  she  was  dressed  save  for  the  putting 
on  of  her  gown,  Mrs.  Matthews  sent  the  girl 
away.  Then  she  slipped  on  a  little  dressing- 
jacket  and  seated  herself  at  her  desk.  It  was 
a  massive  piece  of  furniture  and  had  an  air 
of  almost  masculine  dignity  and  simplicity. 
Otherwise  the  large  room,  with  its  lofty  and 
elaborate  frescoed  mouldings,  was  distinctly 
feminine.  The  chairs  and  sofa  were  upholstered 
in  English  chintz  of  a  flowered  design  and  the 
windows  had  curtains  of  the  same  material. 
The  fireplace  was  of  white  marble  elaborately 
carved  in  leaves  and  bunches  of  grapes.  The 
chief  ornaments  on  the  mantel  were  two  large 
blue  china  urns  with  much  adornment  of  pink 
roses,  cupids,  and  gilt.  These  had  been  her 
father's  wedding  gift  to  her  mother.  Even 
their  hideousness  through  long  attachment 
wakened  a  humourous  tenderness  in  Portia. 
She  finished  pasting  the  clippings  in  a  book 


io  The  Washingtonians 

bulky  with  many  other  newspaper  articles. 
Then  almost  mechanically,  absorbed  in  thought, 
she  arose  and  crossed  over  to  the  wash-stand 
and  removed  the  paste  from  her  finger-tips. 
She  glanced  at  the  clock  and  saw  that  it  was 
still  early  for  dinner,  so  she  turned  down  the 
lamp  she  had  lighted  on  her  desk  and  seated 
herself  at  the  open  window. 

"  I  am  in  love  with  the  day,"  she  said  to 
herself,  smiling.  "  I  cannot  bear  to  see  it  go." 
And  she  thought  of  George  Herbert's  poem 
—  a  favourite  of  her  father's  —  beginning 

"  Sweet  day,  so  cool,  so  calm,  so  bright." 

Opposite  the  window  rose  the  column  of 
the  verandah  with  its  encircling  vine  now 
almost  bare  of  leaves.  The  trees  of  the  dis- 
tant woods  were  hazy  against  the  yellow  west. 
Some  one  was  making  a  bonfire,  and  the  blue 
smoke  wavered  up.  Her  gaze  travelled  over 
dusky,  familiar  outlines.  The  land  she  looked 
upon  was  her  own.  It  had  once  been  her 
father's,  but  she  had  persuaded  her  husband  to 
buy  it  and  deed  it  to  her.  She  had  intense 
love  of  possession,  and  the  pride  of  ownership 
rose  in  her  heart  as  she  gazed.  On  her  father's 
side  she  came  of  good  farming  people.  She 
had  put  considerable  money  in  the  bank  drawn 
from  the  surplus  of  milk  and  eggs  the  place 
produced.  For  the  present,  however,  she  sent 


The  Washingtonians  n 

all  that  was  not  needed  for  household  use  to 
the  sick  soldiers  in  the  hospital. 

She  could  see  the  dark  moving  shapes  of 
her  herd  of  cows  on  the  country  road,  and  the 
silhouette  of  an  old  darkey,  slouching  after 
them  with  his  dog  at  his  heels.  She  had  one 
serious  anxiety,  and  the  news  in  the  paper  had 
been  disquieting.  Moreover,  the  war  reports 
were  as  they  always  seemed  to  be,  of  the  worst. 
Yet  as  she  gazed  out  upon  the  peaceful  scene, 
and  heard  the  cows'  mild  lowing  and  the  jan- 
gling of  their  bells,  her  innate  love  of  the  coun- 
try was  satisfied  and  she  felt  serene  as  the 
evening. 

The  door  opened.  "  Are  you  here,  Portia  ?  " 
asked  her  husband's  voice.  "  Oh,  I  see 
you." 

She  turned,  and  suddenly  realised  by  the 
brightness  of  the  low  burning  lamp  how  dark 
it  had  grown.  She  drew  the  curtains.  "  How 
do  you  feel  to-night,  Tom  ?  " 

"  I'm  tired,"  he  answered,  turning  up  the 
light  which  caught  first  the  gold  on  his  uniform 
and  then  illumined  his  face,  which  was  both 
pale  and  worn.  "  I've  had  the  blues  all  day. 
I  don't  get  my  strength  back,  and  I'd  hoped  to 
return  to  my  brigade  before  this."  He  flung 
aside  his  cape  and  sat  down  in  the  chair  his 
wife  vacated  to  watch  her  complete  her  toilet. 
He  was  five  years  older  than  she,  but  he  had  a 
boyish  look  that  made  their  ages  seem  about 


12  The  Washingtonians 

the  same.  Her  beauty  was  far  too  perfect  a 
type  to  suggest  girlishness.  There  was  no 
opening  of  the  bud  in  her,  but  an  early  fulfil- 
ment. 

She  filled  a  glass  of  wine  for  him  from  the 
decanter  on  her  bureau. 

"  By  the  way,"  he  said  after  drinking  it,  "  I 
picked  up  La  Cerf  at  the  club  and  brought 
him  home.  I  told  Jim  to  lay  another  plate." 

"  I  knew  you  would,"  she  replied.  "  I  told 
Virginia  so.  You  should  have  asked  him  to 
come  to-morrow.  Whenever  I  don't  want  a 
person  at  a  big  dinner  I  always  ask  him  to 
come  and  dine  quite  informally  with  us  some 
other  day.  It  is  most  satisfactory.  He  is  flat- 
tered by  the  intimacy,  and  my  party  hasn't  been 
spoiled  by  an  uncongenial  person." 

General  Matthews  laughed.  He  was  warmed 
by  wine  and  cheered  by  her  companionship. 
She  was  putting  on  her  hooped  satin  skirt,  and 
he  had  to  move  his  chair  out  of  the  way. 
"  There  would  be  no  soldiers  if  men  had  to 
fight  in  such  toggery.  I  like*  that  gown  on 
you." 

"  Yes,  dear,"  she  answered,  absently,  clasp- 
ing her  pearl  necklace.  "  Was  father  in  good 
spirits  to-night  ?  " 

"  I  haven't  seen  him,"  he  said.  "  La  Cerf 
and  I  took  the  'bus  out  Fourteenth  Street  and 
walked  the  rest  of  the  way." 

"  There's   some  one,"   she  interrupted,  "  I 


The  Washingtonians  13 

heard  the  carriage.  I  must  run  on  down. 
Come  as  soon  as  you  can." 

Her  hand  on  the  door-knob,  she  looked 
back.  His  gaze  annoyed  her.  "  Shall  I  pour 
you  out  some  more  wine  ?  Do  you  feel  faint  ?  " 
Then  she  remembered  that  she  had  not  offered 
to  kiss  him  when  he  came  in. 

"You  do  put  on  such  pathetic  airs  when 
you  feel  ill,  Tom,"  she  remarked,  half-laughing, 
half-vexed,  and  going  back  she  kissed  him. 


Chapter  II 

MRS.  MATTHEWS  cast  a  swift  glance 
of  approval  over  the  table.  She  rec- 
ognised her  cousin's  artistic  touch  in  the  ar- 
rangement of  the  flowers,  and,  as  she  sank 
into  a  chair,  she  bestowed  upon  the  girl  a 
charming  smile.  Virginia  coloured  with  child- 
like sensitiveness  to  praise  or  blame. 

"  Senator  Chadwick  sent  word  that  he  might 
be  detained,"  she  announced,  "  and  so  I  thought 
we  would  not  wait." 

"It  was  very  kind  of  you  to  take  me  in," 
said  La  Cerf,  for  whom  a  place  had  been  made 
next  to  Virginia.  "  I  didn't  know  I  was 
stumbling  in  upon  a  dinner  when  I  asked  the 
general  to  take  me  home  to-night.  By  the 
way,  I  saw  our  friend  Fowler  off  to-day.  He 
was  well  enough  to  leave  the  hospital  and  re- 
join his  regiment.  I  didn't  envy  him.  I 
am  glad  mine  is  the  peaceful  pursuit  of  the 
scholar." 

He  smiled  and  toyed  with  the  rose  at  his 
plate.  His  brown  hand  was  small  as  a 
woman's.  The  soft,  shaded  lights  and  'his 
faultless  evening  dress  brought  into  strong 
relief  his  fierce  and  handsome  features.  He 

»4 


The  Washingtonians 


was  the  adopted  son  of  an  army  officer,  who, 
upon  his  death,  had  appointed  General  Mat- 
thews the  boy's  guardian.  Education  had 
made  him  effeminate.  He  pretended  to  schol- 
arly achievement,  and  had  managed  to  remain 
a  few  months  in  the  freshman  class  at  Harvard. 
Prentiss  was  at  Cambridge  at  the  same  time,  and 
had  tutored  him  in  Greek  and  Latin,  but  had 
at  last  resigned  the  task  in  despair.  For  La 
Cerf,  basking  in  the  sunshine  at  the  window, 
would  interrupt  the  lessons  by  leaning  out  to 
watch  some  girl  go  by  in  the  street  below,  or 
start  to  tease  his  dog,  or  again  suddenly  rise 
and  seat  himself  at  the  piano.  His  idea  of 
conscientious  work  consisted  in  staying  through 
the  hour.  At  the  end  of  it  he  would  whistle 
to  his  dog,  and  go  cheerfully  away  to  watch 
the  college  crew  practising  on  the  Charles. 
He  had  been  too  lazy  even  to  try  for  a  seat 
in  the  boat. 

Now,  as  he  protested  his  scholarly  tastes, 
Prentiss,  recalling  the  Indian's  many  flirtations, 
was  moved  to  wickedness. 

"  Conjugate  amo.  La  Cerf,"  he  said. 

"  Be  still,  both  of  you,"  commanded  Mrs. 
Matthews.  "  Elise,  pardon  me.  I've  been 
trying  to  hear  what  you're  saying." 

"  I  was  merely  saying  that  the  trouble  with 
the  army  and  navy  life  is  that  you  never  know 
where  you  may  be  ordered  next,  especially 
now,"  answered  her  guest.  "  I'm  so  glad  Mr. 


1 6  The  Washingtonians 

Haas's  position  keeps  him  at  home.  However, 
I'm  not  so  selfish  but  that  I'd  give  almost 
anything  to  have  this  horrid  war  ended,  though 
of  course  I  can  scarcely  take  the  same  interest 
that  I  would  if  I  still  considered  myself  an 
American." 

Countess  Polonski,  the  wife  of  the  Russian 
minister,  shrugged  her  bare  shoulders,  and 
cast  her  dark  eyes  heavenward.  Then  she 
lowered  her  gaze,  and  addressed  herself  with 
energy  to  the  speaker. 

"  Bah,  my  dear  Elise  !  That  much,"  with 
a  fillip  of  her  jewelled  fingers,  "  for  your 
patriotism.  I  am  a  Russian,  but  had  I  been 
born  a  German,  and  my  husband  twice  the 
Russian  he  is,  I  should  have  called  myself  a 
German.  Or,  had  I  been  English  or  French, 
I  should  consider  myself  English  or  French  to 
the  day  of  my  death.  But,"  with  a  brilliant, 
laughing  glance  around  the  table,  "  had  I  been 
born  an  American,  my  husband,  though  he 
were  twenty  times  a  Russian,  should  become 
an  American  citizen." 

"  Do  not  fail  to  specify  that  he  should  be  a 
Northerner  also,"  suggested  General  Matthews, 
in  whose  mind  the  subject  of  war  was  ever 
uppermost. 

Mrs.  Haas  chose  to  ignore  the  Russian's 
speech.  She  lifted  the  white  rose  at  her  plate 
and  inhaled  its  fragrance. 

"  Your    flowers    are     lovely    to-night,    my 


The  Washingtonians  17 

dear,"  she  remarked,  drawing  the  long  stem 
through  the  belt  of  her  short-waisted  gown. 
The  green  leaves  and  the  masses  of  reddish- 
gold  hair  that  etherealised  her  small,  pale  face 
were  the  only  touches  of  colour  about  her. 
Her  husband  was  correspondent  of  the  New 
Tork  Chronicle.  He  and  his  wife  moved  almost 
entirely  in  diplomatic  circles.  He  was  the 
son  of  a  noble  German  family,  and  while 
visiting  in  America  he  had  married  the  daugh- 
ter of  his  boarding-house  keeper.  The  couple 
now  awaited  hopefully  the  death  of  his  uncle, 
whose  heir  he  was,  and  whose  title  he  would 
take  upon  his  recall  to  his  ancestral  home. 
He  took  a  naive  enjoyment  in  the  excellent 
dinner,  and  carried  on  in  an  undertone  a 
conversation  with  his  neighbour,  General 
Matthews. 

Secretary  West  at  the  head  of  the  table 
tried  to  catch  what  they  were  saying.  He 
was  a  man  of  tremendous  build,  with  a  great 
head  and  chest.  His  intellect,  powerful  rather 
than  brilliant,  shone  with  a  steady  light  in  his 
bluish-gray  eyes  overshadowed  by  level  brows. 
His  expression  of  predominating  mind  was 
softened  by  the  mobile  curves  of  his  mouth, 
at  once  passionate  and  sensitive.  He  was 
smooth  shaven,  and  this  absence  of  beard  em- 
phasised the  Greek  outlines  of  his  face.  It 
was  significant  that  his  best  likeness  had  been 
done  in  marble. 


1 8  The  Washingtonians 

"  Did  I  understand  you  to  say  that  you 
had  later  news  than  to-night's  paper  gives 
us  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  No,"  answered  Haas.  "  I  was  only  say- 
ing that  all  the  rebels  want  now  is  a  chance  to 
give  in  gracefully.  I  saw  the  President  to-day, 
and  he  said  that  they  would  give  in  on  any 
terms,  almost.  What  he  wants  is  this  blood- 
shed stopped." 

"  It's  nearing  the  end  rapidly  now,"  the 
Secretary  rejoined.  "  It's  only  a  matter  of 
endurance,  and  yet  I  sometimes  fear  it  may 
languish  through  another  four  years." 

"  That  is  not  likely,"  put  in  Haas.  "  We 
will  hope  for  a  change  in  administration." 
His  glance  was  significant.  He  took  much 
more  interest  in  politics  than  did  his  wife, 
although  she  was  an  American  born. 

Secretary  West,  fearful  of  sinking  into  a 
depression  that  would  throw  a  cloud  over  the 
dinner,  forced  his  attention  away  from  the 
subject  of  the  war. 

"  Virginia,"  he  asked,  affectionately,  "  what 
have  you  been  doing  all  day  ?  " 

"  I  ?  Oh,  lots  of  things,"  she  replied,  turn- 
ing brightly  from  fastening  La  CerPs  rose  on 
the  lapel  of  his  coat.  "  The  gypsies  have 
come  again,  and  I  have  been  to  see  them. 
The  woman  told  my  fortune.  She  said  I  was 
to  be  married  within  a  year." 

"  How  I  love  gypsies  !  "  cried  Countess  Po- 


The  Washingtonians  19 

ionski.  "  They're  so  full  of  colour.  Can't 
we  go  to  see  them  after  dinner?  Think  of 
the  firelight  dancing  on  the  trees,  and  the 
swarthy  faces  !  There's  such  a  wild  sadness 
about  those  people." 

"  They're  a  set  of  chicken  thieves,"  inter- 
posed her  hostess.  "  I  shall  have  them  chased 
off  the  place  early.  They  all  hate  me  from 
past  experience.  They  wouldn't  tell  me  any 
such  good  fortune  as  they  did  you,  Virginia." 

"  But  you  are  married,  Portia  dear  !  "  cried 
Virginia,  at  which  every  one  laughed. 

"  There  is  no  beauty  so  picturesque  and 
fascinating  as  that  which  resembles  the  pure 
Romany  gypsy's,"  remarked  Haas.  His 
glance  at  the  Russian's  brilliant  face  gave 
his  words  a  personal  meaning. 

"  You  forget,"  she  retorted.  "  How  about 
transfigured  angels  ?  " 

A  ripple  of  laughter  went  around  the  table, 
in  which  all  but  the  Secretary,  who  did  not 
understand  the  reference,  joined. 

"  To  come  but  once  in  contact  with  heav- 
enly things  has  its  effect  for  ever  upon  the  — 
dress,"  murmured  Prentiss,  in  an  aside  to 
Countess  Polonski. 

"  Not  at  all,  Mr.  Prentiss,"  cried  Mrs. 
Haas,  a  trifle  sharply.  "  It  was  my  own 
peculiar  style  of  dress  that  first  gave  the 
artist  his  idea." 

"  I    really    didn't    mean    you    to    hear   me 


2O  The  Washingtonians 

then,"  he  said,  so  penitently  that  she  smiled 
a  forgiveness. 

"  But  the  story  !  Let's  have  the  story  !  " 
cried  General  Matthews,  rousing  himself  guilt- 
ily from  a  fit  of  abstraction,  as  he  happened  to 
meet  his  wife's  blue  eyes  fixed  upon  him. 

"  It  isn't  much  of  a  story,  but  it  was  pro- 
voking, wasn't  it,  Wilhelm  ?  "  said  Mrs.  Haas, 
with  an  appealing  glance  at  her  husband.  "  An 
artist,  a  friend  of  ours,  received  an  order  for  a 
stained-glass  window  to  be  put  in  a  church  in 
—  well,  never  mind  where.  Only,  you'd  be 
surprised  if  I  told  you.  At  the  artist's  re- 
quest, I  posed  for  the  angel.  A  beautiful 
design  !  I  had  on  this  very  gown  —  I  never 
say  dress,  it  sounds  so.  As  I  was  saying,  I 
had  on  this  very  —  " 

"  Robe,"  suggested  Prentiss. 

"  With  my  hair  flowing  over  my  shoulders," 
she  continued.  "  And  would  you  believe  it, 
my  dear  Secretary,  those  horrid  deacons  refused 
to  accept  the  window  !  " 

"  What  reason  did  they  give  ? "  asked  the 
Secretary,  drawing  his  judicial  brows  together. 

"  They  said  it  didn't  have  wings  !  " 

"  Wings  !  "  he  cried,  in  wonder.  "  What 
didn't  have  wings  ?  " 

"  I,  the  angel,"  she  explained.  "  The  artist 
made  me  a  transfigured  angel,  one  without 
wings,  you  know ;  a  mortal  caught  up  to 
heaven.  But  those  wretched  deacons  persisted 


The  Washingtonians  21 

that  all  angels  had  wings,  or  else  they  weren't 
angels." 

"  Well,  I  must  say  it's  the  first  time  I  ever 
heard  of  angels  without  feathers  myself,"  he 
commented,  much  amused. 

"  c  The  wing  wherewith  we  fly  to  heaven,'  " 
quoted  Prentiss,  with  irritating  aptness. 

"  You  don't  need  wings  to  convince  us  of 
your  true  worth,  Mrs.  Haas,"  observed  Gen- 
eral Matthews,  kindly.  "  We  are  none  of  us 
deacons." 

Dinner  was  nearly  over  when  the  peal  of  the 
doorbell  was  heard  echoing  through  the  hall. 

"  By  the  pricking  of  my  thumbs,"  began 
Prentiss,  softly. 

"  It's  Senator  Chadwick,"  said  Mrs.  Mat- 
thews. "  I  should  think  you'd  be  ashamed 
of  yourself,  David." 

"  I'm  sorry  to  be  so  late,"  the  Senator  said, 
taking  his  seat.  "  But  I  had  to  meet  with  the 
committee.  Thank  you,  I  have  dined,  Mrs. 
Matthews.  Still,  I  don't  know ;  a  little  of  the 
wine  and  fruit,  perhaps.  Nothing  more,  I  beg 
you."  His  voice  was  exquisitely  modulated. 
He  sat  silent,  fingering  the  stem  of  his  glass, 
his  eyes  upon  the  ruby  sparkle  of  the  wine. 

Virginia  caught  the  gleam  of  light  beneath 
his  drooping  lids.  "  He's  getting  ready  to 
spring,"  she  thought.  Glancing  up,  she  met 
La  Cerf's  dark  look  fixed  on  her,  and  flushed 
with  a  strange  mingling  of  terror  and  delight. 


22  The  Washingtonians 

The  conversation  again  became  general,  and, 
in  a  manner,  intimate,  as  is  apt  to  be  the  case 
in  a  small  circle  of  friends  having  much  the 
same  prejudices  and  traditions.  They  spoke 
chiefly  of  the  war,  of  the  chaotic  condition 
of  affairs,  political  and  social,  then  existing  in 
Washington.  Haas  related  that  the  President 
had  been  criticised  for  attending  a  Marine  Band 
concert.  "  As  if  the  poor  man  should  not 
have  his  music  !  Next  they  will  grudge  him 
the  time  he  takes  to  eat.  His  music !  Ah, 
no  man  in  my  country  would  wish  to  deprive 
even  his  worst  foe  of  music.  How  could  we 
live  without  it,  my  Elise  ?  "  smiling  at  his  wife, 
whom  he  adored. 

Countess  Polonski,  always  daring,  referred 
to  the  latest  gossip,  that  the  President's  wife 
entertained  Southern  sympathies.  She  was 
gravely  rebuked  by  the  Secretary  himself. 

"  I  fear  she  has  not  conciliated  the  news- 
paper reporters,  and,  if  so,  there  is  no  limit 
to  the  calumny  they  will  spread  about  her. 
I  myself  know  what  it  is  to  suffer  bitterly 
from  just  such  unwarranted  personal  attacks." 
His  sensitive  nostrils  quivered  scornfully. 

"Well,  anyway,"  cried  little  Mrs.  Haas, 
"  she  doesn't  dress  in  very  good  taste.  Now, 
does  she  ? " 

She  could  see  herself  in  the  mirror  of  the 
heavy  walnut  sideboard  opposite.  That  white, 
childish  figure,  with  its  pensive  face,  its  masses 


The  Washingtonians  23 

of  golden  hair,  behind  the  gleaming  array  of 
the  family  silver,  fascinated  her.  The  glass 
was  like  the  smooth  surface  of  a  lake,  and 
she  was  reminded  of  a  water-lily. 

"  She  is  an  excitable  woman  and  she  has 
had  a  hard  row  to  hoe,  but  I  know  she  is 
kindly  at  heart,"  spoke  General  Matthews. 

"  Even  if  she  did  call  me  a  hussy,"  said  his 
wife,  laughing.  "  But  that  isn't  nearly  as  fatal 
as  if  she  had  said  I  didn't  dress  well." 

Matthews  continued  earnestly,  not  heeding 
her  remark,  "  So  many  prominent  people  are 
falsely  accused  of  Southern  sympathies  that 
suspicion  runs  riot.  The  danger  is  that  such 
a  wicked  and  libellous  report  may  cause  some 
crank  to  set  fire  to  the  White  House  or  to 
assassinate  its  mistress,  poor  woman." 

"This  sympathy  —  for  her,"  sighed  Mrs. 
Matthews,  with  a  comical  glance. 

"  I  guess  you  can  take  care  of  yourself,  my 
dear,"  he  retorted,  dryly. 

"  My  foolish  tongue  !  "  cried  Countess  Po- 
lonski,  with  a  smile  that  seemed  to  include 
them  all  in  an  indulgent  condemnation  of  her- 
self. "  I  must  be  more  discreet,  only  —  but 
there,  I  will  say  nothing.  Am  I  not  admira- 
ble in  putting  my  good  resolution  into  practice 
so  soon  ? " 

"  I  know  what  you  are  thinking,"  remarked 
Senator  Chadwick.  "  You  are  hoping  that  we 
shall  have  a  different  social  regime  in  the  new 


24  The  Washingtonians 

administration."  His  eyes  lingered  in  uncon- 
scious admiration  upon  her  face.  "  This  even- 
ing my  committee  drank  the  health  of  the 
honourable  gentleman  whom  we  hope  to  see 
our  next  President.  He  is  a  believer  in  the 
one  term  principle." 

Secretary  West  was  staring  at  him. 

"  A  believer  in  the  one  term  principle,"  he 
repeated,  slowly. 

"  My  dear  friend,"  cried  Haas,  his  face  light- 
ing with  genuine  warmth,  "  I  drink  to  your 
health  and  success  !  " 

Countess  Polonski,  her  glass  half-way  to  her 
lips,  glanced  at  her  hostess.  "  To  you  also," 
she  said,  and  drank. 

Secretary  West  rose  to  respond  to  the  toast. 
In  moments  of  excitement  his  complexion  ac- 
quired a  luminous  pallor.  His  fine  eyes  held 
a  liquid  brilliancy  like  his  daughter's.  But  no 
quick  change  of  expression  could  impart  vivac- 
ity to  him.  He  was  built  upon  such  massive 
and  regular  lines  that  any  play  of  emotion  was 
like  the  changing  light  upon  a  rock,  on  the  sur- 
face merely.  One  felt  that  the  real  man  was 
ponderous,  unyielding,  granite-like. 

"  It  is  some  weeks,"  he  began,  "  since  this 
committee  —  with  Senator  Chadwick  at  its  head 
—  waited  upon  me  and  urged  me  to  consent 
to  the  use  of  my  name  as  a  candidate  for  the 
Presidential  office.  As  you  know,  perhaps,  I 
reserved  my  judgment.  I  have  not  as  yet 


The  Washingtonians  25 

replied.  Still,  day  by  day,  I  might  almost 
say  hourly,  so  continual  is  the  thought  of  it 
in  my  mind,  I  am  becoming  more  and  more 
disheartened  over  the  manner  in  which  the  war 
is  allowed  to  drag  on.  I  feel  that  if  I  were  at 
the  head  of  the  government  I  could  bring  the 
war  to  a  speedy  close.  I  would  prosecute  it 
with  the  greatest  energy  and  refuse  to  let 
it  languish  longer.  Conscious  of  my  own 
rectitude,  admitting  my  high  and  honourable 
ambition  for  the  Presidency,  knowing  I  esteem 
paramount  to  all  else  the  good  of  the  country, 
I  will  give  my  consent  to  your  committee.  If 
my  consent  shall  prove  to  be  a  mistake,  it  will, 
at  least,  be  one  of  patriotism." 

Prentiss  was  first  to  rise  and  shake  hands 
with  him.  The  others  followed  his  example, 
with  one  exception. 

Mrs.  Matthews  alone  noticed  that  her  hus- 
band had  withdrawn  himself  from  the  little 
circle. 

He,  pale,  disapproving,  was  cut  to  the  heart 
by  the  look  she  gave  him. 

She  was  last  to  offer  her  congratulations. 
The  rest  parted  to  make  room  for  her  as  she 
crossed  over,  her  lavender  and  silver  satin  skirt 
trailing  behind  her,  her  proud  face  lifted,  smil- 
ing. She  put  her  hands  on  either  shoulder  of 
her  father  and  kissed  him.  It  was  one  of  the 
supreme  moments  of  her  life. 


Chapter  III 

was  served  in  the  drawing-room. 
The  windows  which  opened  like  doors 
on  to  the  verandah  were  flung  wide.  It  was 
unusually  warm  for  the  season.  Countess  Po- 
lonski,  a  graceful  figure  in  her  crimson  gown, 
played  a  duet  with  Mr.  Haas  on  the  piano  at 
the  further  end  of  the  long  room.  The  deli- 
cious air,  the  softly  shaded  lamps,  and  the 
music,  cast  an  entrancing  spell  over  the  little 
group. 

"  Virginia,"  asked  Mrs.  Matthews,  "  will  you 
please  run  up-stairs  and  get  me  my  white  lace 
shawl  ?  I  think  it's  in  my  lower  bureau 
drawer." 

Secretary  West,  who  had  a  simple  and 
homely  taste  for  the  singing  of  hymns  of  an 
evening,  was  rummaging  in  the  music-rack  for 
a  church-hymnal. 

La  Cerf,  too,  drew  near  the  piano  and  leant 
over  one  side  of  it,  smoking  a  cigarette.  He 
had  received  his  early  education  in  a  mission 
school  in  the  West,  and  he  had  the  unquestion- 
ing faith  of  a  child.  He  loved  to  attend  the 
Episcopal  Church  in  which  he  was  confirmed. 
26 


The  Washingtonians  27 

The  ritualistic  service  had  a  wonderful  fascina- 
tion for  him.  He  had  a  habit  also  of  dropping 
into  one  of  the  old  Roman  Catholic  churches 
in  the  city,  and  would  sit  for  an  hour  at  a  time 
steeped  in  that  atmosphere  of  richness  and 
mystery,  watching  the  shifting  sunlight  stream- 
ing through  the  stained-glass  windows,  gazing 
at  the  delicately  painted  statue  of  the  blue-eyed 
Virgin,  surrounded  by  candles,  the  perpetual 
lamp  burning  in  front  of  her  altar.  Now  he  put 
down  his  cigarette  and  joined  in  the  familiar 
tune  to  which  the  countess  played  the  accom- 
paniment. His  voice  had  the  vibrant  quality 
of  a  reed  stop  in  the  pipe  organ,  a  nasal,  dron- 
ing sound  most  offensive  to  the  Secretary.  He 
thought  the  Indian's  voice  imparted  a  bar- 
baric note  to  the  singing,  and  he  was,  more- 
over, physically  repelled  by  him.  He  never 
could  quite  understand  how  it  was  that  he  had 
him  forced  upon  him  in  his  home  and  at  his 
table  as  an  equal,  but  laid  the  charge  vaguely 
at  his  daughter's  door.  He  regarded  La  Cerf 
in  much  the  same  light  he  did  his  negro 
coachman  and  never  shook  hands  with  him. 
Prentiss  managed  to  slip  unobserved  out  of 
the  room.  His  evening's  work  lay  untouched 
on  the  study  table.  As  he  stepped  into  the 
hall,  he  saw  Virginia  come  tripping  down  the 
stairs,  an  end  of  the  lace  shawl  trailing  after 
her.  He  held  the  door  shut  for  a  moment  to 
detain  her. 


28  The  Washingtonians 

"  You  look  so  pretty  to-night."  He  smiled 
affectionately  at  her. 

"Do  I  ? "  she  asked,  dimpling ;  «  I  didn't 
know.  You  see  —  I  —  I  —  Well,  what  I 
really  mean,  David,  is —  Do  you  think  I'm 
too  thin  to  wear  low  neck  ? " 

"  Not  a  bit,"  he  answered,  his  eyes  dancing. 

The  library  was  across  the  hall.  No  one 
ever  occupied  it  in  the  evening  except  himself, 
and  so  at  night  it  became  his  sanctum  sancto- 
rum. He  drew  the  curtains  and  lighted  the 
lamp.  It  was  a  splendid  brass  lamp,  with  a 
green  shade  ornamented  by  a  gold  dragon. 
He  sat  down  at  the  table,  and  cleared  a  space 
among  the  piles  of  papers  and  letters.  Then  he 
drew  his  cloisonne  tobacco-jar  toward  him,  and 
filled  his  pipe.  Mrs.  Matthews  had  brought 
him  the  jar  from  Japan,  and  he  always  main- 
tained that  it  was  the  source  of  endless  inspi- 
ration to  him.  A  pile  of  letters  requiring 
immediate  answers  fixed  his  attention,  and  he 
promptly  extinguished  them  beneath  the  big 
dictionary.  He  smoked  with  quiet  enjoyment, 
his  gaze  fixed  on  the  books  that  lined  the  walls. 
What  splendid  companionship,  what  endless 
resource  was  there !  He  promised  himself 
sometime  an  evening  of  leisure,  when  he  should 
browse  among  them  to  his  heart's  content.  He 
had  been  too  close  a  student  to  have  time  for 
random  reading.  In  the  further  corner  of 
the  room  stood  the  pedestal  which  held  the 


The  Washingtonians  29 

life-size  marble  bust  of  the  Secretary.  On 
the  other  side  of  the  room  was  the  chair 
which  had  been  Virginia's  when  he  heard 
her  lessons,  at  the  request  of  her  uncle,  who 
believed  in  a  classical  education  for  girls,  under 
tutors  at  home.  Portia's  instruction  had  been 
given  in  this  fashion,  although  her  father's 
income  at  that  time  was  so  small  that  he  had 
taught  her  himself.  But  Virginia  suddenly 
blossomed  into  womanhood,  and  refused  to 
study  longer,  so  that  Prentiss's  relation  to  her 
as  tutor  lasted  less  than  six  months.  Yet  the 
impression  her  personality  had  made  on  him 
was  so  strong  that  often  of  an  evening  he 
looked  up  from  his  books  half-expectant  of 
her  companionship.  He  could  evoke  her 
image  at  will,  —  the  lace  at  her  little  throat, 
her  grave,  attentive  face,  the  impatient  tapping 
of  her  slippered  foot  if  the  lesson  seemed  too 
long.  He  remembered  particularly  the  pale  blue 
bow  she  sometimes  wore  in  her  brown  hair. 
And  if  his  fancy  so  tricked  him  that  the  sud- 
den realisation  of  her  absence  brought  its  sting 
of  disappointment,  he  was  at  once  consoled  by 
the  consciousness  of  her  presence  under  the 
same  roof  with  him.  After  a  little,  he  drew 
the  manuscript  of  his  play  from  the  drawer, 
and  also  several  small  objects,  —  an  old  paper- 
weight, a  tiny  bottle,  a  paste-jar,  a  little  Chi- 
nese idol,  and  some  images  in  wood  which  he 
had  whittled  out  himself.  They  looked  much 


30  The  Washingtonians 

like  the  wooden  figures  in  a  child's  Noah's 
ark,  and  he  bestowed  upon  them  the  various 
names  of  his  heroines.  The  other  articles 
had  acquired  a  masculine  significance  by  hav- 
ing stood  for  the  men  in  his  plays.  As  he 
worked,  his  face  lost  its  wearied  look  and 
glowed  with  mental  excitement.  He  wrote 
slowly  at  first,  then  more  rapidly,  until  at 
last  his  pen  moved  almost  feverishly  across 
the  paper.  Now  and  then  he  paused  to  shift 
the  positions  of  the  tiny  objects  on  the  table's 
mimic  stage,  or  to  refill  his  pipe.  It  was  half- 
past  eleven  when  he  paused  exhausted.  He 
numbered  the  pages  he  had  written,  but  did 
not  attempt  to  read  them  over.  He  knew 
that  he  had  done  good  work ;  that  when  he 
came  to  revise  it,  he  would  be  surprised  at 
its  excellence.  But  now  that  the  mood  of 
inspiration  had  passed,  he  felt  weary  and  in- 
different. He  removed  his  glasses,  and  passed 
his  hand  across  his  eyes.  He  turned  down 
the  lamp-light,  but  first  brought  the  letters 
forth  from  under  the  dictionary,  and  put  them 
in  a  conspicuous  position.  Later  he  would 
answer  them,  after  a  short  walk  in  the  open 
air. 

To  his  surprise,  he  found  Mrs.  Matthews 
on  the  verandah.  She  was  rocking  gently  to 
and  fro  in  a  large  wicker  chair,  her  hands 
clasped  behind  her  head,  as  she  watched  the 
moon  now  low  in  the  west. 


The  Washingtonians  3 1 

"  We  are  going  to  have  a  change  in  the 
weather,"  she  remarked.  "  There's  a  ring 
around  the  moon.  Take  off  your  bonnet," 
she  added,  "  and  sit  down." 

"  My  bonnet,"  he  echoed.  "  Oh  !  "  He 
drew  off  his  green  eye-shade  hastily.  Portia 
had  a  way  of  making  him  feel  absurd. 

She  laughed. 

"  I  forgot  I  had  it  on,"  he  explained.  He 
drew  up  a  chair.  "  What  has  become  of  our 
friends  ?  " 

"  They  went  home  some  time  ago,"  she 
answered.  "  Father,  the  general,  and  Vir- 
ginia have  all  gone  to  bed." 

"  Why  isn't  Polonski  ever  with  his  wife  ? 
I  hate  to  see  a  married  woman  so  —  well,  so 
independent.  I'd  never  allow  it  in  my  wife," 
remarked  Prentiss. 

"  Poor  Katrina !  I'm  sure  it  isn't  her  fault. 
She  can't  keep  herself  shut  up  like  a  nun  be- 
cause her  husband  eschews  society  and  spends 
most  of  his  time  at  his  club.  I  didn't  count 
on  him  to-night,  although  I  invited  him. 
You  know  he  never  goes  anywhere  unless  it's 
strictly  official.  What  do  you  think  of  Sena- 
tor Chadwick  ?  " 

"He  has  the  finest  voice  I  ever  heard,"  he 
answered ;  "  but  I  don't  like  him.  He's  too 
calculating.  I  think  he  tries  to  make  you 
feel  that  your  tact  and  woman's  wit,  as  well  as 
his  admiration  for  you,  have  influenced  him 


32  The  Washingtonians 

to  work  for  your  father.  But  in  his  heart  I 
don't  believe  he  cares  a  jot  what  your  opinion 
of  him  is.  He's  too  cold  to  be  vain.  He's 
all  ambition.  He  doesn't  care  for  women. 
He  sees  a  big  opportunity  for  himself  if  your 
father's  elected.  He'll  get  the  credit  of  mak- 
ing our  next  President." 

"  I  think  you're  only  half  right,"  she  an- 
swered. "  Remember  I  see  him  from  a  woman's 
standpoint.  He's  so  clever  that  he  seems 
cold.  But  he  isn't  so  really,  and  he  enjoys 
women's  society.  They  aren't  as  rough  as 
men  !  "  She  laughed.  "  And  vain  !  Do  you 
think  that  he  didn't  know  that  he  was  making 
an  impression  when  he  came  in  late  to  dinner 
and  announced  how  the  committee  stood  ? 
Wasn't  that  a  direct  bid  for  admiration  ?  Do 
you  think  he  would  have  wasted  such  an 
effective  entrance  on  men  ?  " 

She  drew  the  filmy  lace  shawl  close  about 
her.  She  was  like  some  fair  goddess  in  the 
moonlight. 

Prentiss  made  a  vague  wide  gesture  that 
seemed  to  include  both  her  and  the  lovely 
night,  as  he  asked,  abruptly :  "  Why  aren't 
our  lives  more  like  this  ?  Why  is  it  life 
cheapens  people  so  ?  We  lose  our  genius.  I 
had  higher  ideals,  more  inspiration,  ten  years 
ago  than  now.  If  we  commence  life  by  pull- 
ing with  the  current,  we  end  by  drifting  with 
it.  We  were  meant  to  be  immortals,  and  we 


The  Washingtonians  33 

turn  out  to  be  magpies  !  I  forget  who  said 
that,  but  it's  true.  And  I'm  beginning  to 
find  that  habits  of  material  comfort  grow  on  me. 
I  take  my  first  swallow  of  coffee  suspiciously 
like  an  epicure,  and  I'm  miserable  if  I  go  out 
to  dinner  and  my  barbarous  host  fails  to  invite 
me  to  smoke.  Moreover,  I  find  myself  of 
late  taking  an  interest  in  gossip  !  " 

"  Oh,  I  love  gossip,"  cried  Mrs.  Mat- 
thews, merrily.  "  I  welcome  the  veriest  tittle- 
tattle.  My  regret  is  that  I  don't  dare  indulge 
in  it  except  with  Katrina  Polonski.  We  all 
like  to  talk  about  people,  not  maliciously,  by 
any  manner  of  means,  but  because  our  com- 
mon humanity  makes  them  interesting.  We 
wonder  and  compare  notes  with  our  intimates, 
but  make  a  fine  and  decent  pretence  of  being 
interested  only  in  books  when  with  people 
we're  not  sure  of.  But  when  you  say  life 
cheapens  us  it  isn't  entirely  true.  At  least 
you  and  I  know  father."  The  only  love  she 
knew  which  carried  with  it  a  touch  of  passion- 
ate feeling  spoke  now  in  her  eyes  and  voice. 

"  Oh,  he's  an  immortal !  "  said  Prentiss. 
"  That  is  because  his  mind  is  like  some  great, 
white,  cool  gallery  filled  with  statues.  But 
the  most  of  us  have  minds  like  toy-shops 
crowded  with  tin  whistles  and  wooden  animals. 
He  is  marble,  but  the  rest  of  us  are  putty, 
and  take  the  impress  of  every  finger  touch. 
If  we  only  —  " 


34  The  Washingtonians 

<c  Look  at  the  moon,  now,"  she  interrupted. 

It  was  sinking  behind  the  distant  woods, 
large  and  yellow,  a  disc  of  gold.  They  watched 
it,  until  at  last  only  its  upper  rim  was  to  be 
seen,  and  its  last  gleam  was  withdrawn  from 
the  river. 

"  How  the  night  affects  one's  imagination," 
he  rejoined.  "  The  moon  shining  on  the  river, 
the  black  trees,  hold  a  suggestion  of  wildness. 
It  is  all  I  need  to  see  at  once  an  Indian  in  his 
canoe  and  to  forget  that  they  were  driven  away 
a  hundred  years  ago." 

"  We  still  have  La  Cerf,"  she  said,  and 
laughed  at  his  impatient  gesture.  She  rose. 

"  Good  night,"  she  said.  "  Good  night, 
beautiful  night."  She  stood  a  moment  against 
the  column  of  the  verandah.  "  Nature  alone 
makes  me  sentimental,  David.  I  have  been 
in  love  with  this  day  and  evening.  You  ought 
to  go  to  bed.  I  thought  you  looked  tired." 

She  went  up-stairs.  As  she  turned  to  go 
to  her  own  room  she  noticed  a  crack  of  light 
beneath  her  father's  door.  She  tapped.  "  May 
I  come  in  ?  " 

"  Yes,  my  dear,"  answered  the  Secretary. 
He  was  reading  in  bed,  and  now  looked  up 
at  her  benevolently  over  his  spectacles. 

The  rocking-chair  in  which  she  seated  herself 
was  old-fashioned,  with  a  twisted  rope  bottom 
and  a  worn  black  cushion  embroidered  in  bright 
crewels.  The  rest  of  the  furniture  in  the  room 


The  Washingtonians  35 

corresponded  to  the  chair.  The  floor  was  cov- 
ered by  a  worn  rag  carpet.  The  mirror  above 
the  marble-topped  bureau  was  dim  and  marred. 
There  were  several  time-stained,  gilt-framed 
engravings  on  the  walls,  the  Secretary's  di- 
ploma of  graduation  from  an  obscure  Western 
college,  and  a  picture  of  Portia  as  a  little  girl 
in  a  plaid  frock  and  embroidered  pantalettes, 
one  chubby  hand  negligently  hanging  over  the 
arm  of  her  chair  to  display  a  turquoise  ring. 
The  wash-stand,  marble-topped  to  correspond 
to  the  bureau,  held  the  only  lovely  thing  in 
the  room,  a  china  set.  Both  the  delicate  bowl 
and  pitcher  were  cracked  and  chipped,  and  of 
the  smaller  pieces  there  remained  only  the  cup 
and  soap-dish.  The  thin  white  china  was  dec- 
orated with  brown  medallions  of  the  head  of 
Minerva  surmounted  by  gold  bands,  two  heads 
each  on  the  bowl  and  pitcher,  but  only  a  single 
smaller  medallion  on  the  cup  and  soap-dish. 
His  affection  for  this  set  was  peculiarly  child- 
like. It  afforded  him  the  most  innocent  en- 
joyment. The  delicacy  of  the  gold-banded 
china,  the  perfect  profile  'of  Minerva,  the  as- 
sociation of  it  with  the  limpid  coolness  of  his 
morning  bath,  seemed  to  express  the  beauty 
and  clearness  of  the  Homeric  age.  His  plain 
room  was  a  refuge  to  him  when  the  luxury  of 
the  rest  of  the  house  became  oppressive  to  his 
simple  taste.  On  the  mantel  was  a  daguerreo- 
type of  his  wife.  Virginia  looked  like  her. 


36  The  Washingtonians 

Of  late  years  Mrs.  Matthews  never  looked 
at  that  faded,  evanescent  likeness  without  the 
faces  of  two  other  women  rising  in  her  mind. 
But  for  her  intervention  her  mother  would 
have  had  a  successor.  The  first  of  these  prob- 
abilities was  a  widow,  and  Portia,  on  learning 
of  her  father's  infatuation,  arranged  for  the 
lady  to  visit  them  at  once.  She  remained  a 
month,  and  left  with  tearful,  incoherent  accusa- 
tions of  her  triumphant  hostess  and  scorn  for 
her  backward  suitor,  who  failed  to  follow  his 
early  admiration  with  a  proposal  for  her  hand 
and  heart.  She  had  not  stood  comparison  with 
his  daughter.  The  next  lady  on  whom  he 
fixed  his  matrimonial  eye  was  a  clerk  in  his 
office,  an  ineffectual,  sweet- faced  woman  with 
a  nervous,  repressed  manner,  who  was  more 
awed  than  attracted  by  his  courtly  attention, 
but  would  have  married  him  through  sheer 
lack  of  power  to  refuse  to  do  so.  She  wilted 
before  the  imperious  daughter,  and  was  on  the 
whole  glad  to  accept  a  position  in  New  York 
at  a  considerable  advance  of  salary  that  Mrs. 
Matthews  secured  and  thrust  upon  her.  The 
affair  had  never  reached  the  point  of  an  en- 
gagement and  the  Secretary  took  her  departure 
as  a  rebuff,  too  proud  to  pursue  her  further, 
yet  really  wounded  and  never  understanding 
through  whose  means  she  was  offered  the  new 
position. 

Sometimes  when  he  recalled  his  long  years 


The  Washingtonians  37 

of  widowhood  he  left  vaguely  that  fate,  through 
no  fault  of  his,  had  cheated  him  of  a  companion. 
He  was  too  shy  a  man  to  enjoy  the  fashionable 
women  his  daughter  drew  around  him. 

"  Shall  I  read  this  chapter  aloud  ?  "  he  asked. 
It  was  his  custom  to  read  the  New  Testament 
in  Greek  to  keep  the  language  fresh  in  his 
mind.  Sundays  he  always  carried  the  well- 
worn  volume  to  church  to  follow  the  lessons. 

Now  he  read  aloud,  well  but  slowly,  trans- 
lating into  the  English.  Each  was  keenly 
conscious  of  the  other's  sympathy  in  regard 
to  his  candidacy,  but  long  reserve  made  it 
difficult  for  them  to  speak  freely.  When  he 
finished  the  chapter  he  put  the  book-mark  in 
the  place  and  closed  the  volume. 

"  I  wish  you  had  kept  up  your  Greek,  Por- 
tia," he  said,  "  if  only  for  religious  purposes. 
To  read  in  this  way  makes  the  Testament 
more  convincing.  I  feel  nearer  the  source  of 
inspiration  and  I  seem  to  get  a  first  freshness 
and  beauty.  It  is  like  plucking  a  rose  with 
the  dew  still  on  it  yourself,  and  not  having  it 
given  to  you  by  another  person." 

"  The  study  required  to  read  with  any  pro- 
ficiency puts  too  many  thorns  on  such  a  rose 
for  me,"  she  answered,  rising.  "  Shall  I  blow 
out  the  lamp  for  you  and  open  the  window 
before  I  go  ?  " 

<J  No,  thank  you,  my  dear,  I  shall  read 
awhile.  Good  night."  He  read  little,  how- 


38  The  Washingtonians 

ever,  but  lay  thinking  into  the  morning  hours. 
The  lamp  began  to  flicker  and  he  blew  out 
the  light,  yet  still  lay  awake  too  content  in  his 
new-born  hope  to  wish  to  sleep.  The  Presi- 
dency seemed  already  to  be  within  his  grasp, 
and  a  rushing  sense  of  power  intoxicated  him. 
He  had  none  of  the  pessimist  in  him,  and  now 
no  thought  of  failure  dashed  his  bright  dreams. 
For  years  he  had  aspired  to  that  highest  offi- 
cial position  of  America  and  had  always  just 
missed  receiving  the  nomination.  He  cared 
nothing  for  wealth  and  his  personal  habits 
were  of  the  simplest.  Although  he  devoted 
all  his  splendid  ability  to  the  finances  of  the 
nation  he  was  indifferent  to  his  private  affairs 
and  gave  the  management  of  them  to  his 
daughter,  insisting  upon  one  thing  only,  that 
large  sums  should  be  sent  to  support  a  wid- 
owed sister  in  the  West  and  to  give  her  sons 
a  college  education.  In  some  way  she  had  a 
quaint  innocence  and  unworldliness  of  nature. 
He  did  not  suspect  that  his  splendid  home 
was  largely  maintained  by  his  son-in-law's 
money.  Outside  of  his  daughter  and  imme- 
diate household  he  had  no  affections.  He 
never  spoke  of  his  mother,  who  had  been  a 
brilliant  woman  and  devoted  to  him.  He 
supported  her,  but  went  seldom  to  see  her 
the  last  years  of  her  life,  and  never  sent  his 
daughter  to  visit  her ;  nor  did  he  ever  express 
any  desire  to  see  the  nephews  he  was  educat- 


The  Washingtonians  39 

ing.  In  times  of  adversity  he  had  been  too 
proud  to  accept  sympathy,  and  he  did  not 
desire  it  now  when  there  was  so  fair  a  chance 
that  he  would  attain  to  his  ambition.  He  felt 
no  loneliness  in  his  old-fashioned  room,  sur- 
rounded by  the  furniture  so  endeared  by  asso- 
ciation, and  with  his  books,  his  best  companions, 
on  the  table  beside  his  bed. 


Chapter  IV 

THE  day  opened  with  clouds  and  a  sharp 
wind. 

Secretary  West  welcomed  the  change  with 
the  exuberance  of  one  who  had  spent  his  youth 
in  the  country  and  learned  to  love  and  know 
Nature  in  her  every  mood.  After  breakfast 
he  tucked  Virginia's  hand  under  his  arm,  and 
the  two  set  off  ahead  of  the  carriage  which  was 
to  take  him  to  his  office.  It  was  hard  walking 
on  the  rough  road,  and  the  strong  gale  buffeted 
them,  blowing  her  hair  and  bringing  a  lovely 
colour  to  her  face. 

"  If  I  were  younger,"  said  he,  "  I  would  run 
a  race  with  you." 

"  Oh,  you're  young  enough,  Uncle  Phin- 
eas,"  she  retorted,  "  but  you  think  it  wouldn't 
be  dignified." 

He  smiled  down  fondly  on  her.  Virginia 
had  been  his  darling  from  the  moment  she  first 
crossed  his  threshold,  a  mere  slip  of  a  girl,  her 
parents  dead,  to  make  her  home  with  him.  She 
was  his  wife's  niece,  and  he  fancied  in  her  an 
even  stronger  resemblance  than  there  was  to 
his  early  love. 

40 


The  Washingtonians  41 

"  When  you  get  to  be  President  I  hope 
you'll  give  lots  of  balls  and  let  me  come  to  all 
the  dinners,  although  I  suppose  I  must  do  just 
as  Portia  says.  She  thinks  I'm  a  child.  Why, 
she  called  after  me  this  morning  to  know  if  I 
had  my  rubbers  on." 

"  Did  you  ?  "  he  asked. 

She  shook  her  head  laughing.  "  I  went 
back  and  put  them  on.  It  must  have  rained 
hard  early  this  morning." 

They  had  walked  half  a  mile  before  the  car- 
riage overtook  them.  Prentiss  sat  on  the  back 
seat,  the  fur  robe  drawn  well  about  him. 

"  I  wish  I  had  your  constitution,"  he  said  as 
the  great  man  glowing  from  his  walk  got  in 
beside  him. 

"  Virginia,"  commanded  the  Secretary,  "  run 
right  home." 

"  I  will,"  she  nodded,  tucking  in  a  loose  cor- 
ner of  the  robe.  "  Good-bye.  Don't  work 
too  hard,  Uncle  Phineas.  Yes,  I'm  going 
right  home." 

"  Don't  you  believe  her,"  cried  Prentiss, 
"  she  hasn't  the  least  intention  of  going  home. 
She's  going  to  cut  across  the  fields  to  the 
gypsies'  camp." 

Virginia  made  a  face  at  him.  "  You  look 
like  a  squirrel,  David,  huddled  up  in  all  that 
fur.  Your  nose  looks  so  sharp." 

"You  may  not  find  them,  anyway,"  he 
warned  her,  "  for  Portia  started  out  with  blood 


42  The  Washingtonians 

in  her  eye  just  as  I  left  the  house.  The 
chicken-coop  was  raided  last  night." 

The  Secretary  laughed.  "  I  thought  she'd 
start  out  early.  She  looks  forward  to  their 
coming  every  year.  She  enjoys  the  fray. 
Good  morning,  my  dear." 

Where  the  road  curved  a  short  distance 
ahead  Prentiss  turned  to  look  back  for  a  last 
glimpse  of  Virginia. 

Such  a  slender,  wind-blown  figure  against 
the  bleak  landscape  as  it  took  its  way  across 
the  stubble  fields  ! 

"  And  that's  going  straight  home,"  he 
laughed,  settling  back  comfortably  in  his 
corner. 

He  glanced  at  his  companion  and  was 
alarmed  by  the  subtle  change  in  his  face. 
The  healthy  red  tone  occasioned  by  the  walk 
had  gone  and  he  looked  harassed. 

"  What  is  it,  sir  ?  "  asked  Prentiss. 

The  other  laid  his  hand  heavily  on  the 
young  man's  knee.  "  I  had  a  bad  hour  last 
night.  I  did  not  get  to  sleep  till  morning,  and 
it  may  have  been  the  excitement,  but  I  woke 
suddenly  in  a  cold  perspiration."  He  struck 
his  great  chest.  "  A  sense  of  suffocation  here. 
Never  mention  this  to  Portia,  but  I  have  a 
growing  dread  of  paralysis.  It  is  in  my  family 
on  both  sides.  We  all  go  that  way." 

"  Sir,"  answered  Prentiss,  with  his  charming 
and  merry  smile,  "  were  your  wife  living  she 


The  Washingtonians  43 

would  doubtless  wonder,  as  I  have  heard  all 
women  do,  why  men  invariably  exaggerate 
their  little  ills.  She  would  say,  perhaps,  that 
it  was  a  long  step  for  imagination  to  take  from 
an  attack  of  indigestion  to  paralysis." 

"  Of  course,  of  course,  it  was  nothing,"  put 
in  West,  hurriedly,  a  trifle  shamefaced.  They 
rode  some  distance  before  he  spoke  again. 
"  You  understand  I  shall  not  become  a  candi- 
date unless  Ohio  prefers  me." 

"  I  wouldn't  let  that  fact  decide  me,"  re- 
joined Prentiss,  easily.  "  You  know  a  prophet 
is  never  without  honour  save  in  his  own  coun- 
try. You  might  lose  your  own  State  but  gain 
a  majority  of  the  others." 

The  look  of  pride  he  knew  so  well  settled 
upon  the  other's  face.  In  spite  of  his  eager- 
ness to  win  that  great  prize,  which  had  always 
eluded  him  and  for  which  he  had  made  long 
preparation,  West  would  not  be  willing  to  sac- 
rifice his  pride.  He  had  almost  too  strong  a 
sense  of  what  was  due  him  and  had  a  conscious 
virtue  which  irritated  the  ordinary  voter.  Pren- 
tiss, who  had  been  with  him  when  he  was  gov- 
ernor, had  had  many  hints  of  his  unpopularity, 
and  was  convinced  that  West  stood  a  better 
chance  of  winning  outside  than  in  his  own 
State.  His  splendid  and  fearless  champion- 
ship of  the  negro  had  given  him  a  national 
reputation. 

"  However,"  continued  the  Secretary,  "  even 


44  The  Washingtonians 

if  I  am  not  nominated,  I  pray  we  may  have  a 
man  of  force  and  decision  in  the  chair.  I  have 
no  doubt  that  if  the  President  is  reflected,  the 
war  will  drag  on  for  the  next  four  years.  Al- 
ways ready  to  accept  compromises,  willing  to 
change  his  policy  a  hundred  times  to  suit  any 
temporary  need  that  arises,  he  will  end  by 
plunging  the  country  into  such  debt  that  the 
burden  will  become  too  heavy  to  be  borne. 
The  public  debt  is  now  so  heavy  that  I  trem- 
ble. It  is  draining  the  country.  And,  mark 
me,  David,  if  the  system  of  finance  I  have 
introduced  does  not  continue  under  wise  direc- 
tion, I  am  positive  it  will  cause  us  more  trouble 
in  time  of  peace  than  it  has  helped  us  in  the 
hours  of  war." 

He  folded  his  arms  upon  his  breast,  a  posi- 
tion habitual  with  him.  "  Oh,  that  I  could 
but  see  my  country  once  more  at  peace  !  "  he 
cried,  in  a  tone  of  deep  feeling.  "There  is  no 
calamity  equal  to  that  which  civil  war  brings. 
It  is  brother  against  brother  !  " 

They  were  passing  through  a  negro  settle- 
ment on  the  outskirts  of  the  city.  A  sentry 
recognised  Secretary  West,  and  saluted  him. 

Washington  presented  a  gloomy  aspect. 
The  once  drowsy  old  Southern  town  was 
transformed  into  a  city  of  barracks  and  hos- 
pitals. The  roads,  cut  deep  by  heavy  wagons, 
were  now  muddy  thoroughfares.  The  autumn 
trees,  the  brown  and  dying  grass  in  the  parks, 


The  Washingtonians  45 

added  a  touch  of -decay.  But  there  yet  lingered, 
in  spite  of  the  desolate  conditions  incident  to 
war,  much  of  the  charm  and  aristocracy  which 
made  old  Washington.  On  one  of  the  public 
benches  an  old  negro  and  his  wife,  who  had 
escaped  from  slavery,  sat  shivering,  huddled 
together  in  dumb  misery,  forlorn  in  a  strange 
city,  eyeing  eagerly  each  passer-by,  in  the  hope 
of  enlisting  some  attention. 

Prentiss  caught  sight  of  them,  and  under- 
stood at  once  their  situation.  He  ordered  the 
coachman  to  stop  a  moment,  while  he  directed 
them  to  a  refuge  for  escaped  slaves,  which 
some  good  women  had  organised,  and  the 
roof  of  whose  building  he  pointed  out. 

At  a  cross-roads  the  carriage  was  again 
stopped  until  several  artillery  wagons  had 
passed. 

As  they  drove  on,  after  the  passing  of  the 
artillery  wagons,  two  gallant  rebel  officers  on 
parole  recognised  the  Secretary,  and  saluted  as 
they  galloped  by.  But  he  ignored  their  saluta- 
tion, his  arms  folded  on  his  breast,  his  face 
adamant  in  its  coldness.  When  they  had 
passed,  he  turned  to  his  companion.  "  I  do 
not  recognise  traitors." 

Prentiss,  who  had  some  slight  pleasant  ac- 
quaintance with  the  two  officers,  and  had 
returned  their  bow  cordially,  flushed. 

The  next  moment  the  Secretary  ordered  the 
coachman  to  draw  up  to  the  side  of  the  road. 


46  The  Washingtonians 

"  My  man,"  he  called  to  a  blue-coated  sol- 
dier, who  hung  over  rather  than  leant  against 
the  iron  fence  of  a  private  residence,  "  what 
are  you  doing  there  ?  " 

The  man  raised  a  ghastly  face,  hollow- 
cheeked,  accentuated  by  a  scraggy  beard. 
His  sunken  eyes  showed  like  great  holes 
burnt  in  his  head. 

"  I'm  taking  a  morning  constitutional,"  he 
answered,  with  a  grin.  "  Been  trying  to  find 
the  hospital.  Been  walking  around  all  night. 
Fast  as  one  person  told  me  which  way  I'd 
start  off,  then  it'd  all  go  back  on  me,  and  I'd 
forget  the  direction." 

"  Get  in  the  front  seat,"  said  the  Secretary, 
"  and  we'll  take  you  there  at  once." 

But  the  poor  fellow  hung  weakly  to  the 
fence.  The  ten  or  twelve  feet  between  him 
and  the  road  might  have  been  as  many  miles 
for  all  his  strength  to  traverse  them  un- 
aided. 

"  I'll  have  to  carry  this  here  fence  along  for 
a  cane,  I  guess,  seeing  as  you  ain't  got  a  life- 
line handy,"  he  feebly  jested. 

Prentiss  hurriedly  alighted  to  assist  him. 
He  was  weak  as  a  baby,  and  they  had  some 
difficulty  getting  him  up  into  the  seat.  De- 
spite his  exhaustion  and  momentary  collapse, 
he  showed  a  naive  and  eager  interest  in  the 
city,  asking  questions  in  regard  to  the  build- 
ings they  passed.  He  wore  the  sugar-loaf  hat 


The  Washingtonians  47 

and  blue  blouse  of  the  regiments  drawn  from 
the  West.  This  was  the  first  time  he  had 
seen  the  capital. 

"  I'll  be  able  to  get  around  in  a  few  days  to 
investigate  if  you  fellers  are  running  the  gov- 
ernment on  the  square,"  he  told  the  Secretary 
jovially.  Prentiss,  thinking  it  might  interest 
him,  had  informed  him  of  West's  official  posi- 
tion. He  found  himself  greatly  amused  by 
the  soldier's  shrewd  and  humourous  observa- 
tions, and  promised  to  come  and  take  him 
for  a  walk  as  soon  as  he  was  convalescent. 

The  negro  coachman  showed  as  much  inter- 
est as  he  deemed  consistent  with  the  family  he 
served.  He  modelled  his  manner  as  far  as 
possible  after  that  of  his  master.  But  he  drove 
slowly,  avoiding  the  rough  places,  and  invol- 
untarily uttered  crooning  sounds  of  pity. 

"  Ef  yo'd  get  a  piece  o'  fat  pine  outen  de 
swamp,  an'  cook,  an'  cook,  an'  cook  it  in  a 
kettle  o'  water  till  de  top  am  all  grease,"  he 
volunteered,  "  an'  den  put  that  scum  on  yo', 
de  misery  in  yo'  back  would  soon  be  clean 
drew  out." 

The  soldier  gave  him  a  friendly  poke  with 
his  weak  forefinger.  "  What're  you  giving  us, 
you  black  ace?  Do  you  want  to  raise  a  blister 
on  my  back  ?  " 

Prentiss  laughed  out  like  a  boy,  and  slapped 
his  knee.  "  Never  mind,  Uncle  Joe,"  he 
said  to  the  offended  old  coachman.  "  I  know 


48  The  Washingtonians 

fat  pine  fixed  me  up  once  when  I  had  the 
misery  !  " 

Secretary  West,  looking  straight  ahead  of 
him,  was  oblivious  to  this  conversation.  He 
acknowledged  absently  the  soldier's  thanks 
when  they  left  him  at  the  hospital,  and  ten 
minutes  later,  had  he  chanced  to  see  the  man 
again,  he  would  not  have  known  him.  His 
manner,  so  cold  as  to  be  repellent,,  conveyed 
the  impression  that  his  kindness  had  been 
inspired  by  a  sense  of  duty  rather  than  by  sym- 
pathy. 

Prentiss  sighed.  It  required  so  little  to 
convert  such  a  man  as  they  had  just  left  into 
a  friend.  The  vote  of  the  soldiers  would 
carry  the  country,  yet  he  saw  that  West  had 
puzzled  and  subtly  antagonised  the  man  he 
had  aided.  He  was  no  politician,  although  a 
great  statesman. 

His  eyes  were  set  in  a  gaze  far-reaching  and 
deeply  sad.  He  was  thinking,  not  of  the  one 
soldier,  but  of  the  type  he  represented,  the 
thousands  of  plucky  Americans  left  on  the 
field  to  die,  or  sharing  his  fate  in  many  a  hos- 
pital. He  had  a  mind  of  singular  purity  and 
justice.  These  qualities  won  him  universal 
honour.  But  he  who  was  stimulated  to  the 
most  arduous  duties  by  lofty  patriotism,  who 
had  such  sympathy  with  the  cause  and  for  the 
American  people  at  large,  had  no  power  of 
quick  and  kindly  sympathy  nor  saving  grace 


The  Washingtonians  49 

of  humour  to  bring  him  into  closer  touch  with 
his  fellow  man. 

There  was  something  remote,  something 
classical,  in  his  nature.  Absorbed  in  great 
affairs,  he  had  no  patience  for  ordinary  joys  or 
common  griefs.  He  took  always  the  larger 
view,  and  failed  to  see  the  smaller  claims  at 
his  very  feet. 

The  sun  broke  through  the  gray  sky.  Like 
magic  it  touched  the  city  into  life  and  colour. 
And  suddenly,  for  all  the  world  as  if  she  had 
been  the  good  fairy  to  occasion  this  change, 
they  saw  the  Countess  Polonski  waving  her 
hand  to  them  from  the  sidewalk.  She  was 
going  to  market  with  her  servant.  The  ges- 
ture of  fellowship,  her  dark  and  friendly  eyes, 
her  bright  smile  even  at  that  distance  seemed 
yet  to  carry  over  from  the  past  night  her 
warm  congratulations. 

The  Secretary  returned  her  bow  with  more 
earnestness  in  his  expression  then  he  knew, 
and  his  eyes  lingered  on  her  in  that  momen- 
tary passing. 

A  band  turned  around  the  corner  playing 
the  national  tune,  and  back  of  it  came  hob- 
bling, faltering,  the  stronger  supporting  the 
weaker,  a  grim  procession  of  the  slightly 
wounded  soldiers  from  a  recent  battle.  They 
had  just  come  up  by  boat  from  Alexandria, 
and  had  been  met  at  the  landing  by  a  band 
to  conduct  them  to  the  hospital. 


50  The  Washingtonians 

The  music  drew  the  crowd  at  once.  Boys 
appeared,  and  came  running  down  the  street 
to  follow  the  soldiers.  The  gold  lace  on  the 
uniforms  of  several  officers  off  duty  sparkled 
in  the  sunlight  as  they  loitered  down  the 
avenue. 

Secretary  West  forgot  the  passing  show.  He 
scarcely  heard  the  music.  He  was  looking  at 
the  dome  of  the  Capitol,  now  almost  finished. 
During  the  war  it  had  been  the  President's 
wish  that  the  work  of  building  it  should  go 
steadily  forward,  even  in  those  black  days 
when  it  was  not  certain  that  Washington  was 
safe.  The  figures  of  the  workingmen  were  to 
be  seen  moving  to  and  fro  on  the  scaffolding. 
Massive  stones,  as  yet  unused,  were  scattered 
about  the  grounds.  Above  the  wings  of  the 
building  floated  the  flags.  Both  Houses  were 
in  session. 

In  his  public  office  room  at  the  Treasury 
Building,  he  found  Senator  Chadwick  reading 
the  morning  paper.  He  had  been  waiting 
some  time. 


Chapter  V 

THE  short  December  day  made  the  draw- 
ing-room seem  dark,  although  it  was 
only  four  o'clock.  Large  flakes  of  snow 
whitened  the  window-panes. 

Mrs.  Matthews  was  making  tea  before  the 
open  fire  for  herself  and  Countess  Polonski. 

"  I  admit,"  she  was  saying,  "  that  those 
old  days  have  a  decided  fascination  for  me. 
I  wish  I  had  seen  Washington  drive  to  Con- 
gress in  his  pumpkin-coloured  coach  and 
prancing  horses  to  deliver  his  messages  by 
word  of  mouth  like  a  king.  We're  no  longer 
picturesque  !  Our  present  executive  sends  his 
messages,  and  stays  at  home  with  his  stock- 
inged feet  propped  up  on  the  mantel,  reading 
Petroleum  V.  Nasby  !  No,  I  take  back  that 
word  'stockinged.'  It  was  a  flourish  of  my 
own  imagination." 

"  Washington  is  the  place  where  one  might 
create  a  court,"  remarked  her  companion. 

"  I  don't  like  the  word  '  court,' "  answered 
Portia.  "  It  isn't  American.  Still,  I  feel  as 
if  Washington  should  be  made  the  capital  in 
the  best  sense.  At  present  we  have  only  the 


52  The  Washingtonians 

political  and  diplomatic  sets,  and  a  few  old 
families  who  make  society  provincial  and  dull. 
I  am  always  so  amused  at  the  peculiar  airs 
these  old-fashioned  exclusive  people  put  on, 
as  if,  because  they  were  the  social  leaders  in 
the  past  they  must  necessarily  be  superior  to 
us  who  do  the  same  thing  in  the  present.  It's 
all  egotism.  We  always  glorify  our  own  past. 
Why,  I  always  look  at  children,  for  instance, 
with  a  kind  of  pity.  I'm  so  sure  they  can't 
have  as  good  a  time  as  I  had." 

"  Ah,"  sighed  her  friend.  "  I  never  like  to 
think  of  my  childhood.  I  was  so  unhappy." 
Children  are  so  ridiculous.  They  take  their 
little  griefs  as  though  they  were  tragedies.  I 
once  wrote  a  history,  and  my  father  burned  it 
in  the  fire." 

"You  should  have  had  my  father,"  rejoined 
Portia.  "He  taught  me  nearly  all  I  know. 
It  was  a  reminiscence  of  those  days  when  he 
was  a  country  school-teacher  and  received  his 
pay  in  board  at  the  different  farmhouses.  I 
have  always  longed  to  visit  those  places  and 
see  the  little  schoolhouse,  and  yet  whenever 
it  has  come  in  my  way  to  travel  I  have  always 
smothered  the  wish  and  gone  abroad  as  if  it  were 
a  religious  duty  !  And  the  more  I  have  seen 
of  the  world  the  more  I  have  hoped  that  Wash- 
ington may  become  the  great  centre  of  art. 
We  should  have  here  our  best,  and  by  that 
I  mean  our  most  inspiring  and  polished  so- 


The  Washingtonians  53 

ciety,  whose  influence  should  be  felt  by  the 
men  who  come  here  to  Congress  and  by  them 
transmitted  to  the  people  of  their  districts.  It 
would  be  a  general  leavening  of  the  whole 
loaf.  I  have  a  kind  of  screaming  patriotism 
that  makes  me  hate  to  admit  American  faults, 
but  I  have  felt  we  could  have  rather  more 
elegance  and  dignity  without  destroying  our 
republican  traditions  or  interfering  with  the 
national  sense  of  humour.  We  care  too  little 
for  art  and  too  much  for  money." 

"  Why  don't  you  devote  your  money  to 
buying  masterpieces  and  putting  them  in  coun- 
try schoolhouses  ? "  asked  Countess  Polonski, 
wickedly. 

"  Don't !  "  said  Portia,  with  a  comical  shud- 
der. "  Now  that  I  have  money  I  couldn't  exist 
with  a  dollar  less."  She  rose  to  pour  herself 
out  another  cup  of  tea.  "  Will  you  have  some 
more  ?  " 

Her  guest  put  her  cup  and  saucer  on  the 
low  bamboo  table.  "  Not  any  more,  thank 
you."  She  looked  at  her  friend  with  thought- 
ful, half-smiling  affection.  The  countess  was 
most  beautiful  when  animated.  In  repose  she 
had  a  thoughtful,  strangely  patient  look  that 
deprived  her  of  her  usual  brilliancy. 

"  Katrina,"  spoke  Mrs.  Matthews,  impul- 
sively, as  she  met  her  glance,  "  I  love  you. 
You  stir  my  heart-strings  !  You  are  the  only 
intimate  friend  I  ever  had."  She  sat  down 


54  The  Washingtonians 

again,  and  stirred  her  tea  thoughtfully.  "  I 
often  wish  that  I  could  with  propriety  be 
my  father's  manager.  I  should  like  nothing 
better  than  to  attend  conventions  and  make 
my  own  combinations.  What  is  your  impres- 
sion of  Senator  Chadwick?  Do  you  think 
he's  a  safe  man  ?  Do  I  place  too  much  confi- 
dence in  his  judgment  ?  " 

"  I  like  him,"  answered  the  countess.  "  I 
did  the  moment  I  saw  him.  He  is  as  gentle 
as  a  white  kitten,  although  he  seems  to  be 
a  man  of  ability.  And  his  voice !  It  is 
exquisite." 

"  They  call  him  the  silver-tongued,"  said 
Portia,  "  but  I  am  very  sure  he  wouldn't  be 
flattered  by  your  comparison  of  him  to  a 
kitten." 

"  A  woman  never  tells  a  man  her  real  opin- 
ion of  him,"  replied  the  Russian,  laughing. 
"  Now  I  always  tell  the  count  how  gentle  he 
is.  Brute  !  " 

"  Aren't  you  afraid  he  might  strike  you  ?  " 
asked  Portia.  "  I've  always  been  positive  that 
foreigners  beat  their  wives,  and  I'm  not  open 
to  any  other  conviction  on  the  subject," 

The  other's  eyes  sparkled  with  malicious 
delight.  "  Afraid  of  him  !  Ah,  my  dear,  he 
would  not  beat  me.  I  am  a  hyena  !  " 

The  servant  opened  the  door  and  announced 
Senator  Chadwick. 

"  We  were  just  speaking  of  you,"  said  Mrs. 


The  Washingtonians  55 

Matthews  as  she  shook  hands  with  him. 
"  Countess  Polonski  was  comparing  you  to  a 
lion  or  to  some  member  of  that  genus.  Such 
it  is  to  be  a  power  in  the  Senate.  You  will 
have  a  cup  of  tea  ?  " 

"  I  should  enjoy  nothing  more,"  he  answered, 
taking  off  his  overcoat.  "  I  abominate  tea 
taken  as  a  regular  beverage  at  meal-time,  but 
there  is  nothing  I  like  better  with  a  friend 
occasionally."  He  sat  down  in  front  of  the 
fire  and  extended  his  thin,  white  hands  to 
the  blaze.  "  You  don't  know  how  cheerful 
this  seems.  The  air  is  raw.  I  shivered  all 
the  way  out  in  spite  of  a  closed  carriage  and 
a  robe." 

"  Perhaps  you  would  rather  have  some 
wine,"  she  suggested.  She  stooped  down  be- 
tween him  and  Countess  Polonski  to  hang 
the  little  brightly  gleaming  brass  kettle  on  the 
crane  above  the  coals.  "  I  want  you  to  notice 
my  kettle,  Mr.  Chadwick.  It  is  so  sturdy 
and  jolly  I  call  it  (  her,'  such  is  my  affection 
for  it,  and  I've  named  (  her  '  Miss  Moffatt  after 
one  of  my  nursery  heroines.  Now,  sha'n't  I 
get  some  wine  ?  " 

"  I  really  prefer  the  tea,"  he  answered. 
"Shall  I  tell  you  a  secret?  This  firelight 
makes  one  grow  confidential."  He  regarded 
them  smilingly.  "  Well,  I  detest  wine.  It 
makes  me  ill.  But  I  drink  it  occasionally,  a 
martyr  to  principle." 


56  The  Washingtonians 

"  Why,  principle  ?  "  inquired  Mrs.  Mat- 
thews. 

He  raised  his  brows  in  comic  despair.  "  I've 
always  felt  that  a  gentleman  should  be  able  to 
drink  wine.  The  world  respects  a  prohibi- 
tionist. He  denies  himself  on  principle.  But 
a  man  whom  the  very  odour  of  wine  sickens, 
what  a  Miss  Nancy  !  And  I'm  such  a  man. 
The  idea  of  wine  appeals  so  to  me.  It  is 
poetical,  and,  taken  delicately,  is  suggestive  of 
the  pleasantest  things  in  life.  What  is  a  mar- 
riage or  banquet  without  it?  Nor  could  you 
conceive  of  a  great  poet  as  a  Blue  Ribbon 
Prohibitionist,  —  Shakespeare,  for  instance." 

"Be  consoled,"  said  Mrs.  Matthews,  "my 
father  dislikes  wine  and  seldom  touches  it.  He 
has  written  verses  on  classical  subjects.  And 
may  I  not  add  with  becoming  modesty  that  he 
is  a  man  of  breeding?  I'm  going  to  leave  you 
both  a  few  minutes  while  I  go  to  get  some  of 
my  fruit-cake.  I  never  trust  the  servants  to 
cut  it.  They  might  eat  the  crumbs  !  It  is 
worth  its  weight  in  gold." 

Senator  Chadwick  was  not  feeling  well.  He 
leant  back  in  the  comfortable  chair,  and  thought 
of  his  forlorn  hotel  room.  How  homelike  it 
was  here.  The  arrangement  of  the  pictures 
and  furniture,  the  scent  of  the  drooping  roses 
on  the  mantel,  the  fresh  disorder  of  some 
bundles  left  on  the  piano,  all  breathed  the 
impression  of  a  ruling  and  gracious  femininity. 


The  Washingtonians  57 

"You  are  tired,"  spoke  Countess  Polonski. 
He  met  her  kind  and  sympathetic  glance. 

He  straightened  himself  briskly.  "  The 
warmth  made  me  a  trifle  drowsy."  Then 
quite  unconsciously  he  settled  back  again  in 
the  chair.  He  was  not  a  robust  man. 

Countess  Polonski  often  wished  that  she  did 
not  feel  so  keenly  the  pathetic  quality  in  others. 
Chadwick,  with  his  ceaseless  personal  ambi- 
tion, his  provincial  experience,  his  physical 
delicacy  of  organism  emphasised  by  his  blond 
colouring,  touched  her  sympathies. 

Virginia's  kitten  had  strayed  in  the  door 
Mrs.  Matthews  had  left  partly  open.  The 
little  creature  rubbed  itself  against  her  dress, 
purring  to  attract  attention,  and  she  bent  and 
picked  it  up. 

It  was  dark  in  the  long  room.  The  window- 
panes  were  quite  white  with  the  damp,  clinging 
snow.  The  Russian's  personality  seemed  to 
absorb  the  firelight,  so  rich  and  warmly  glow- 
ing did  she  appear.  Her  cheeks  were  crimson, 
her  eyes  dusky  as  her  heavy  hair.  The  jewels 
on  the  white  hand  stroking  the  kitten  glittered. 
The  fur  that  trimmed  her  deep  blue  gown  took 
on  a  lustrous  gleam  in  the  dancing  light.  The 
cat's  watchful,  green  eyes,  like  living  jewels 
themselves,  blinking  sleepily,  were  fixed  on 
the  fire. 

To  Chadwick  his  companion  was  all  that 
was  mysterious,  foreign,  subtly  fascinating. 


58  The  Washingtonians 

He  thought  with  distaste  of  the  girls  he  had 
known  in  his  Western  town.  In  the  silence  he 
could  hear  the  slumberous  purr  of  the  kitten, 
the  feathery,  lapping  sound  of  the  flames,  the 
singing  of  the  little  kettle  when  the  water  began 
to  boil.  At  intervals  the  low  wind  rattled  the 
casements,  and  a  curious  elation  arose  in  him 
as  though  the  wind  were  an  enemy  held  at  bay 
while  he  was  shut  in  with  beauty. 

"  How  quiet  we  are,"  she  said. 

He  did  not  answer,  and  she  saw  that  he  was 
so  absorbed  in  looking  at  her  that  he  did  not 
regard  her  words. 

Mrs.  Matthews  entered  with  a  silver  tray  of 
cake  and  preserves.  She  made  the  tea  in  the 
quaint  old  china  pot.  "  Has  any  one  seen  the 
Haases  lately  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  I  was  there  yesterday,"  answered  Countess 
Polonski.  "  She  was  illuminating  a  volume 
of  German  poems  for  her  husband's  Christmas 
gift." 

"  She  thinks  the  sun  rises  and  sets  in  him," 
remarked  Mrs.  Matthews,  "  and  really  he  is 
very  patient  with  her." 

Chadwick's  sensitive  brows  drew  together. 
"  I  don't  know  why  a  man  should  be  patient 
of  his  wife's  devotion  to  him.  It  should  make 
him  humble." 

Her  gay  laugh  rippled  out.  "  But  an  ex- 
cess of  devotion  must  bore  one  so.  I  was 
once  tempted  to  marry  an  admirable  man  with 


The  Washingtonians  59 

a  title,  but  was  deterred  by  the  fact  that  he  was 
in  love  with  me.  I  foresaw  I  should  have 
him  for  ever  at  my  heels." 

Countess  Polonski  rose  and  gathered  up  her 
bundles  from  the  piano.  "  You  should  have 
been  shopping  with  us  this  morning,  Senator 
Chadwick.  We  visited  all  the  old  pawn-shops 
and  junk-places.  I  picked  up  this  little 
cameo."  She  held  it  out  to  him  in  its  shabby 
case. 

He  admired  it  as  in  duty  bound,  wondering 
why  she  should  prefer  such  an  old-fashioned 
piece  of  jewelry  to  a  modern,  well-set  piece. 
"Why,  it  is  worn  so  smooth,"  he  added,  "that 
the  head  on  it  hasn't  any  nose.  It  would 
distress  me  to  have  to  wear  such  a  thing. 
Besides,  I  don't  think  it's  safe  to  buy  such 
second-hand  things  ;  they  might  carry  disease." 

"  Oh,  I  like  you  American  men  so  ! "  she 
cried.  "  You  leave  the  aesthetic  side  of  life  to 
your  women.  It  is  a  theory  of  mine  that 
when  the  men  of  a  nation  get  to  be  connois- 
seurs their  country  is  becoming  effete.  If  you 
knew  anything  about  cameos  —  " 

"  I  do,"  he  interrupted  ;  "  my  mother  had  a 
set  she  used  to  wear  to  church,  a  large  pin  and 
earrings  with  a  snow-scene  design.  The  colours 
were  brown  and  white,  quite  tasty." 

"  My  mother  had  a  set,  too,"  said  Mrs. 
Matthews,  smiling. 

"  I  see  you  don't  appreciate   the  exquisite 


60  The  Washingtonians 

green  of  this  stone,"  remarked  the  countess, 
shutting  up  the  case.  "  You  must  give  this 
string  of  coral  beads  to  your  cousin  for  me, 
Portia.  They  are  the  proper  jewelry  for  a 
young  girl.  I  am  going  now  because  I  am 
sure  you  two  want  to  talk  together.  Where 
is  my  muff?  Oh,  there  it  is.  Tell  Virginia 
that  if  she  will  let  me  have  that  pretty  kitten, 
I  will  give  her  my  muff  in  exchange.  And  it 
is  really  the  more  beautiful  piece  of  fur.  The 
count  is  a  connoisseur  in  furs  and  cameos !  " 

Senator  Chadwick  remained  an  hour  longer 
in  earnest  conversation  with  Mrs.  Matthews. 
He  was  distressed  by  her  father's  persistent 
refusal  to  do  anything  to  help  himself  politic- 
ally, other  than  to  give  his  consent  to  the  use 
of  his  name.  But  he  had  found  an  ally  in  the 
daughter,  and  he  told  her  frankly  whose  influ- 
ence it  would  be  well  for  them  to  obtain. 

"  Then  if  General  Matthews  will  — "  he 
added. 

"  We  must  not  take  him  into  our  calcula- 
tions," she  interrupted,  quickly.  "  He  has  no 
sympathy  with  my  father's  ambition." 

He  sat  silent  some  moments. 

"  I  must  admit,"  he  said,  at  last,  speaking 
slowly,  "  that  I  was  quite  unprepared  for  this. 
My  committee  had  counted  upon  his  popular- 
ity with  the  soldiers  as  a  strong  card  in  the 
event  of  your  father's  ultimate  nomination.  It 
is  certainly  most  unfortunate.  Indeed,  to  speak 


The  Washingtonians  61 

frankly,  it  must  tell  against  a  man  should  his 
son-in-law  oppose  his  candidacy  to  the  most 
honourable  position  it  is  in  the  power  of  the 
American  people  to  bestow.  Your  husband  is 
well  liked,  and  his  opposition  will  give  rise  to 
ugly  rumours  of —  Lord  knows  what !  But 
you  can  trust  the  reporters  to  get  up  some 
unsavoury  reason.  Come,  come,  Mrs.  Mat- 
thews, this  won't  do.  You  must  make  him 
change  his  mind." 

"  You  must  not  think  he  will  enter  any  ac- 
tive campaign  against  my  father,"  she  said. 
"  Only,  he  will  not  help  him." 

"  Is  this  absolute?  "  he  asked. 

She  nodded.  The  kitten  climbed  up  on  her 
dress,  and  she  thrust  it  gently  but  firmly  from 
her.  Still,  she  reached  over  to  the  little  tea- 
table,  and  poured  the  remaining  cream  into  a 
saucer,  and  placed  it  on  the  rug.  She  was  not 
fond  of  cats,  but  her  innate  sense  of  justice 
made  her  respect  Virginia's  love  for  her  pet. 
Her  affection  and  understanding  of  her  cousin 
was  not  deep,  and  she  sometimes  thought  of 
her  as  not  unlike  the  kitten,  content  as  long  as 
cream  was  being  poured  into  her  saucer. 

"  I  never  yet  knew  a  military  man  of  any 
ability  who  wasn't  both  obstinate  and  opinion- 
ated," Chadwick  remarked.  "It  is  probably 
quite  useless  to  try  to  make  him  change  his 
mind.  Rather  ridiculous,  though,  isn't  it  ? 
With  his  father-in-law  President,  he  could  have 


62  The  Washingtonians 

almost  any  position.  Don't  worry,  Mrs.  Mat- 
thews, I  understand  that  the  best  of  husbands 
are  often  obdurate.  But  we'll  pull  through 
without  him,"  cheerfully.  "  I'll  see  which  of 
us  is  the  better  man.  I  guess  I'll  win  out  in 
this  fight,  all  right."  He  rose.  "  I  must  go. 
And,  in  regard  to  this  little  matter,  I  judge, 
from  what  you  say,  that  the  general  will  not 
advertise  his  opposition,  for  your  sake.  But 
we  must  be  discreet  and  not  let  it  get  abroad, 
for  people  on  the  outside  will  judge,  most 
naturally,  that  your  husband  is  loyal  to  your 
father." 

When  he  was  gone  she  stirred  the  fire  and 
drew  her  chair  closer,  glad  to  be  alone. 

"At  this  moment  I'm  not  sure  which  irri- 
tates me  most,  Tom  for  his  absurd  enthusiasm, 
or  Senator  Chadwick  for  his  impertinence,"  she 
thought  with  vexation.  But  she  was  not,  on 
the  whole,  seriously  worried  in  regard  to  her 
husband's  attitude.  She  was  so  accustomed  to 
act  without  consulting  him,  that  she  underesti- 
mated the  value  of  his  opinions.  She  was  con- 
vinced that  her  father's  nomination  would  be 
assured  should  his  campaign  receive  the  right 
management.  Discontent  with  the  existing  ad- 
ministration flourished  in  Washington,  where 
public  men  were  generally  ill-disposed  toward 
the  government.  She  knew  the  political  con- 
ditions intimately,  and  was  aware  that  there 
were  few  members  in  either  house  who  fa- 


The  Washingtonians  63 

voured  the  President's  renomination.  In  him 
they  had  found  no  fellow  politician,  but  a 
master.  They  had  learned  the  inexorable 
will  beneath  that  kindly  and  humourous  ex- 
terior. Secretary  West  himself  complained 
openly  that  there  was  no  true  cooperation, 
and  that  the  President  never  advised  with  his 
Cabinet,  that  he  might  act  upon  their  united 
judgment. 

Portia  turned  an  ever-ready  ear  to  these 
complaints  from  important  men,  and  hoped 
to  turn  this  discontent  to  her  own  advantage. 
She  was  the  most  beautiful  woman  in  Wash- 
ington. By  infinite  tact  and  practically  unlim- 
ited wealth  she  had  won  an  extraordinary  social 
eminence.  She  had  attracted  to  herself  the 
diplomatic  body  which,  bored  by  the  war  and 
the  dulness  of  the  entertainments  at  the  exec- 
utive mansion,  had  made  her  home  its  centre 
of  gaiety.  It  was  an  open  jest  that  the  mis- 
tress of  the  White  House  had  jealously  accused 
Mrs.  Matthews  of  attending  her  official  recep- 
tions, and  bearing  off  the  honours.  The  latter's 
position  had  been  strong  enough  to  enable  her 
to  resent  this  attitude,  and  she  did  not  go  there 
again  that  winter.  Society  found  her  recogni- 
tion the  more  important,  and  rallied  around 
her.  The  situation  was  unusual.  The  Presi- 
dent was  obliged  to  renounce  all  but  the  most 
perfunctory  social  duties.  The  great  state 
dining-room  was  seldom  opened.  The  weekly 


64  The  Washingtonians 

receptions  were  attended  chiefly  by  strangers 
who  came  to  look  after  their  sick,  by  officers 
and  soldiers  just  from  the  hospitals,  and  by 
lesser  politicians  with  their  wives  and  daugh- 
ters. These  came  to  shake  hands  with  their 
loved  President,  and  to  assure  him  eagerly  of 
their  loyalty. 

These  visitors  at  the  capital  guessed  little 
of  that  brilliant  inner  circle  which  drew  around 
Mrs.  Matthews  as  about  an  unthroned  but 
imperious  queen.  This  opportunity  had  been 
made  for  her  largely  by  the  war  and  by  the 
administration  of  a  Western  man.  The  brilliant 
society  of  the  South  had  had  its  day.  She  and 
her  father  were  borne  in  on  this  great  wave  of 
Western  ascendency,  and  it  was  to  her  great 
personal  distinction  and  to  her  husband's 
wealth  that  their  position  was  due. 

Secretary  West  himself  had  not  the  slightest 
appreciation  of  his  daughter's  real  power.  He 
was  as  unconscious  of  it  as  he  was  of  the  luxury 
of  his  home.  At  the  splendid  table  Portia  set 
he  was  an  abstemious  eater.  As  his  physical 
being  comprehended  only  the  plainest  living, 
so  intellectually  he  accepted  with  genuine  sim- 
plicity the  most  complex  social  relations. 

To  her  he  was  perfect.  She  would  not 
have  had  the  least  hair  of  his  head  changed. 
What  man  was  more  fit  to  be  at  the  head  of 
the  nation  ?  She  recalled  the  hard  struggles 
of  his  youth,  his  unblenching  championship 


The  Washingtonians  65 

of  the  cause  of  the  negro.  Her  imagination 
dwelt  lovingly  upon  these  incidents  of  his 
career. 

Dreaming  by  the  firelight  she  pictured  how 
he  would  accept  the  news  of  his  election  should 
it  come.  She  even  fancied  his  inaugural 
address,  caught  the  echoes  of  his  words,  saw 
his  magnificent  head  and  shoulders  towering 
above  the  crowd. 

" f  And  there  were  giants  in  those  days,'  " 
she  murmured. 


Chapter  VI 

VIRGINIA  sat  at  her  embroidery,  lis- 
tening to  the  Secretary  read  Words- 
worth aloud.  She  drew  the  scarlet  wool  in 
and  out  of  the  canvas,  her  little  white  hand 
glancing  in  the  lamplight.  She  was  mak- 
ing a  pair  of  worsted  slippers  for  his  Christ- 
mas gift,  but  as  he  never  noticed  her  sewing, 
she  was  confident  the  gift  would  come  as  a 
surprise.  She  had  grown  up  in  his  home,  sweet 
as  a  flower,  with  all  her  Virginian  heritage  of 
charm.  There  was  never  a  more  innocent, 
incorrigible  flirt.  Men  were  an  endless  source 
of  amusement  and  interest  to  her,  and  she 
often  longed  for  a  girl  friend  with  whom  she 
could  exchange  confidences.  She  never  thought 
of  talking  to  Portia,  who  regarded  her  as  a 
mere  child.  This  separated  the  two,  as  well 
as  the  fact  of  money.  The  Secretary  made  his 
niece  a  monthly  allowance  which  seemed  to 
his  simple  mind  an  abundance  for  a  little  girl 
to  spend.  He  never  appreciated  how  much 
she  lacked  in  the  way  of  dress.  Mrs.  Mat- 
thews's  elegant  costumes  carried  out  the  rep- 
utation her  husband  bore  of  being  one  of  the 
wealthiest  men  in  the  country,  but  with  the 
66 


The  Washingtonians  67 

exception  of  an  occasional  gown  of  which  she 
had  tired  she  never  gave  anything  to  her 
cousin.  Matthews,  who  was  a  generous  man, 
had  not  the  least  idea  that  his  wife  neglected 
to  see  to  it  that  Virginia  had  what  she  wished. 
The  girl's  happy  heart  knew  no  discontent. 
She  took  real  pleasure  in  making  over  the 
rich,  slightly  worn  dresses  bestowed  upon  her, 
for  she  was  an  exquisite  needlewoman.  Mrs. 
Matthews,  who  disliked  to  sew,  often  had 
Virginia  do  fine  mending  for  her,  and  insisted 
upon  paying  for  this  service,  overruling  the 
child's  blushing  protestations.  Virginia,  too 
sensitive  to  seem  to  reprove  her  cousin  by 
refusing  to  take  the  money,  would  put  it  in 
the  box  for  the  poor  at  church.  The  last 
Sunday,  when  at  church,  La  Cerf  had  been  a 
guest  in  the  family  pew  and  had  found  her 
places  in  the  prayer-book  for  her.  She  had 
been  so  happy  when  they  knelt  and  prayed 
side  by  side. 

She  smiled  with  pleasure  at  the  recollection. 
At  the  time  she  had  been  conscious  that  Pren- 
tiss  was  irritated.  Mischievous  dimples  showed 
in  her  face. 

"  Poor  David,"  she  thought,  biting  off  an 
end  of  wool,  "  he  certainly  does  love  me." 
She  felt  a  fine  compassion  for  his  state. 

"  How  beautiful  that  is,  my  dear,"  remarked 
the  Secretary.  He  read  over  again  the  favour- 
ite passage  he  had  just  concluded. 


68  The  Washingtonians 

"  '  She  dwelt  unknown,  and  few  could  know 
When  Lucy  ceased  to  be  ; 
But  she  is  in  her  grave, 
And,  oh,  the  difference  to  me.'  " 

Ashamed  of  her  inattention,  she  listened. 
Her  sewing,  forgotten,  fell  idly  in  her  lap,  and 
she  sat  with  lightly  folded  hands,  wide  eyes, 
and  parted  lips. 

"  Uncle  Phineas,"  she  said,  "  does  Words- 
worth sometimes  make  you  very  sad  ?  I  think 
that  I  could  even  cry  right  now,  but  only 
because  it  is  so  sweet." 

He  closed  the  book  and  took  off  his  spec- 
tacles to  rest  his  eyes.  He  had  been  reading 
the  poem  of  "  Lucy."  It  had  been  his  wife's 
name  as  well. 

"  '  She  dwelt  among  the  untrodden  ways 
Beside  the  springs  of  Dove. '  " 

He  murmured  the  words  over  again. 

"  Virginia,"  he  said,  "  I  was  thinking  to-day 
that  my  wife  was  only  three  years  older  than 
you  when  she  died.  She  still  seems  a  slip  of 
a  girl  to  me.  I  have  had  the  strangest  fancy 
as  if  long  ago  I  had  lost  a  daughter  and  not  a 
wife.  I  feel  so  old  now  ever  to  have  had  so 
young  a  wife.  Why,  Portia  is  such  a  woman 
compared  to  what  her  mother  was  !  Lucy's 
youth  has  lost  her  to  me  more  than  the  absent 
years.  *  The  springs  of  Dove.'  In  what 
land  are  they,  I  wonder." 


The  Washingtonians  69 

"You  make  me  cry,  dear  Uncle  Phineas," 
cried  Virginia.  "  You  are  not  old  !  "  She 
went  over  and  sat  on  the  arm  of  his  chair. 
"  Do  you  want  your  little  girl  to  cry  ?  No  ? 
Then  you  must  never,  never  be  sad  again, 
because  when  you  are,  why  then  I  am,  too. 
Don't  you  see  how  it  is,  Uncle  Phineas  ?  " 
She  laughed  through  her  sudden  tears.  Her 
soul  was  April's.  "  I  just  happened  to  think 
how  Portia  would  have  made  her  mother  stand 
around  just  the  way  I  have  to.  Wouldn't  it 
have  been  funny  ?  " 

"  I'm  afraid  so,"  he  sighed.  "  Poor  child, 
I  fear  she  is  too  much  like  me." 

"  Shall  we  have  a  game  of  chess  ?  "  holding 
her  pretty  head  on  one  side.  "  You  mustn't 
be  angry  if  I  beat  you,  for  I  know  I  shall." 

"  Not  to-night,  my  dear.  I  have  some 
letters  to  write,  and  then  I  am  going  to  bed." 
He  felt  in  his  pocket.  "  Let  me  see,"  smiling 
indulgently,  "  haven't  I  something  for  you  ? 
Here  it  is.  There,  that  is  for  you  to  buy 
hair-ribbons  with." 

"  Why,  I  don't  wear  my  hair  braided  down 
my  back  any  more  !  I  wear  it  in  a  coil  with 
curls,  the  way  Portia  does  hers."  She  turned 
toward  him  the  back  of  her  head  that  he  might 
see. 

"  Well,  well,  do  what  you  like  with  it,  only 
don't  be  extravagant."  He  did  not  kiss  her 
good-night,  for  he  was  not  demonstrative. 


yo  The  Washingtonians 

His  daughter  had  laughingly  compared  him 
to  that  stern  Roman,  Cato,  who  said  that  he 
gave  thanks  to  Jove  when  it  thundered,  for 
then  his  timid  wife  could,  with  propriety,  fly 
to  his  arms. 

Left  alone,  Virginia  curled  up  into  the  arm- 
chair he  had  occupied,  coaxed  her  kitten  into 
her  lap,  and,  taking  up  a  new  magazine,  began 
to  read.  She  had  not  turned  more  than  the 
first  page  when  Mr.  La  Cerf  was  announced. 

"  Are  you  all  alone  ?  "  he  inquired,  as  they 
shook  hands.  "  The  night  was  so  disagree- 
able that  I  counted  on  the  family  being  at 
home.  You  must  excuse  my  appearance.  I 
rode  my  pony  out  from  town,  and  he  got  me 
spattered  with  mud." 

"  Uncle  Phineas  and  Mr.  Prentiss  are  home, 
but  the  rest  are  away  for  dinner.  I  don't 
believe  Mrs.  Matthews  will  stay  long,  how- 
ever, for  this  is  the  first  time  the  general  has 
been  out  of  an  evening  since  he  was  ill."  She 
hoped  he  would  not  ask  to  see  David. 

He  had  not  the  least  desire  to  see  either  her 
uncle  or  his  private  secretary,  and  was  pleased 
that  she  did  not  insist  upon  calling  them. 
He  seated  himself  in  a  rocking-chair,  and 
gave  the  kitten,  which  leapt  upon  his  knee, 
a  quick,  hard  slap,  that  sent  it  away  with  a  cry 
some  distance. 

Virginia  ran  and  picked  the  little  creature 
up,  and  petted  it.  "  I  am  sorry  it  annoyed 


The  Washingtonians  71 

you,  but  you  should  have  put  it  down  on  the 
floor  gently." 

He  smiled  at  her,  undisturbed.  "  I  hate 
cats.  You  should  have  a  dog.  If  you  beat 
a  dog  he  knows  what  it's  for,  but  a  cat 
doesn't." 

She  took  up  her  work,  and  began  to  fill  in 
the  design,  nervously,  somewhat  disturbed  by 
the  incident. 

"  I  like  to  see  any  one  embroider,"  he  re- 
marked. "  I  used  to  help  one  of  the  pro- 
fessors in  the  Indian  museum  classify  the  fine 
moccasins  and  robes.  They  were  fine  specimens 
of  embroidery.  Let  me  try  if  I  can  do  that." 
He  held  out  his  hand,  and  she  gave  him 
the  canvas  and  a  needle  threaded  with  gray 
wool.  He  didn't  fancy  the  colour,  and  in- 
sisted upon  having  another  needle  threaded 
with  scarlet. 

She  watched  his  small  brown  hand  putting 
in  the  stitches  painstakingly,  but  he  was  too 
restless  ever  to  remain  long  at  the  slightest 
task,  and  suddenly  he  doubled  the  canvas  up 
into  a  ball,  and  flung  it  on  the  table.  "  Don't 
let's  sew  any  more  to-night,"  he  said.  He 
edged  his  chair  as  near  the  fire  as  possible. 
He  suffered  much  from  the  cold. 

The  reddish  reflection  intensified  the  copper 
hue  of  his  skin.  His  striking  profile,  over- 
sensitive for  an  Indian's,  suggested  the  white 
blood  that  General  Matthews  always  declared 


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was  in  him.  His  straight  black  hair,  although 
cut  in  the  fashion  of  the  day,  was  always  in  a 
kind  of  wild  disorder,  which  distressed  him. 
He  was  a  great  dandy,  and  he  brushed  his 
stiff  locks  until  they  shone  purple  as  the  oiled 
blue-black  braids  of  a  squaw. 

Virginia  watched  him,  and  felt  her  heart 
quicken  with  strange  excitement.  To  her 
innocent  eyes  he  looked  the  haughty  prince 
of  a  dark,  mysterious  race.  Back  of  him  she 
imagined  the  rolling  prairies,  wonderful  sun- 
rises, and  nights  of  star-lit  beauty. 

She  invested  him  with  the  romance  of  many 
legends.  His  reserve  heightened  this  interest. 
He  was  too  well-bred  to  be  questioned  as  if  he 
were  a  curiosity,  and  did  not  like  any  one  to 
appear  conscious  of  the  fact  that  he  was  an 
Indian. 

"  The  general  was  mad  with  me  last  night, 
and  so  I  came  out  this  evening  to  show  him  I 
was  not  angry,"  he  remarked.  "  He  was  at 
me  again  to  go  to  war,  and  I  told  him,"  his 
voice  rising  haughtily,  "  I  told  him  I  would  go 
to  any  decent  war,  but  that  I  wouldn't  give  a 
cent  to  fight  for  those  damned  niggers." 

The  pride  of  his  race,  the  hatred  of  the  red 
man  for  the  black,  spoke  in  his  flashing  eyes. 
In  his  heart  he  cherished  revenge  toward  those 
who  had  ever  mistaken  him  for  a  negro. 

"  I  think  they  are  a  good  deal  like  poor 
children,"  she  volunteered,  timidly  ;  "  that  is 


The  Washingtonians  73 

what  my  uncle  says.  You  must  never  say  that 
before  him,  or  I  fear  he  would  not  let  you  come 
to  see  us  again." 

He  straightened  himself  defiantly,  ready  to 
leave  the  house  at  once.  Then  the  impulse 
died,  as  he  looked  at  her,  sitting  before  him  in 
her  pink  gown,  one  hand  playing  with  the 
long  string  of  coral  beads  she  wore,  the  tiny 
kitten  purring  in  her  lap,  her  lovely  eyes, 
despite  her  reproof,  fixed  on  him  with  that 
expression  of  fascination  he  had  encountered 
often  in  the  faces  of  other  women.  How  pale 
and  slight  she  was  !  She  was  not  worth  his 
effort  in  coming.  But  he  would  remain,  for  he 
wished  to  see  General  and  Mrs.  Matthews.  A 
shade  of  insolence  crept  into  his  gaze.  He 
had  a  sudden  distaste  for  any  further  conver- 
sation with  her,  and  went  over  and  sat  down 
at  the  piano. 

"  I  hope  you  are  going  to  play  for  me,"  said 
Virginia,  rather  wistfully.  She  feared  she  had 
hurt  his  feelings. 

"  I  will  sing  you  the  Apache  snake-dance," 
he  answered. 

He  began  to  thump  the  keys  with  a  finger 
of  each  hand,  and  to  this  sullen  minor  recita- 
tive, which  was  indescribably  dreary,  he  droned 
out  the  guttural  words.  As  he  caught  the  ex- 
citement of  the  song,  his  figure  stiffened,  his 
eyes  grew  wild,  and  he  stared  straight  before 
him  as  if  hypnotised. 


74  The  Washingtonians 

Unconsciously  she  rose,  and  went  over  to 
the  piano. 

At  last  he  finished,  and  let  his  hands  fall 
into  his  lap.  His  eyes  turned  slowly  upon 
Virginia.  The  pupils  were  contracted,  and 
had  a  strange  dulness.  A  tremor  ran  through 
her.  She  tried  in  vain  to  look  away  from 
him.  Gradually  the  wild  light  in  his  face 
died  like  a  fire  going  out  and  his  tense  figure- 
relaxed.  He  half  rose,  tempted  to  kiss  her. 

Virginia  retreated  from  the  piano,  her  kitten 
clasped  to  her  breast,  startled,  she  knew  not 
why. 

He  smiled  and  sat  down  again.  "  See  if 
you  could  dance  it." 

She  ran  and  put  the  kitten  out  in  the  hall, 
and  came  back  with  sudden  joyousness.  "  It 
would  be  such  fun  to  learn  it."  Dancing  had 
been  a  fine  art  with  Virginia.  She  knew  all 
the  darky  movements,  and  no  servant  on  the 
place  could  instruct  her  further.  She  took 
several  steps  slowly. 

Prentiss,  working  at  his  play  in  the  library 
across  the  hall,  heard  the  music  and  fidgeted. 
It  recalled  his  student  days  and  the  many  times 
he  had  heard,  on  entering  his  lodging-house,  a 
muffled  thumping,  and  realised  that  La  Cerf 
was  up-stairs  at  his  piano  working  himself  into 
a  frenzy  of  emotion.  The  old  distaste  swept 
over  him  now  as  he  listened.  At  last  he  rose 
impatiently,  unable  to  work.  He  might  as 


The  Washingtonians  75 

well  go  in  and  visit  with  the  family  until  their 
guest  left. 

As  he  opened  the  door  Virginia  ran  into 
him. 

"  How  you  startled  me,  David,"  she 
exclaimed. 

La  Cerf  glanced  up  and  nodded,  but  con- 
tinued playing.  The  music  was  rousing  com- 
plex emotions  in  him,  and  without  any  reason 
whatever  he  longed  to  be  insulting  to  his 
former  tutor. 

Virginia  stopped  dancing  and  leant  against 
the  wall,  smiling  at  Prentiss.  She  was  very 
pale. 

"  What  are  you  doing?  "  he  asked.  Wrath 
strangely  mingled  with  pain  and  jealousy  rose 
in  him. 

"  I  am  going  to  learn  the  snake-dance,"  she 
answered.  "  I  had  only  just  begun  when  you 
came  in." 

La  Cerf  continued  to  play.  She  seemed  to 
struggle  to  regain  her  strength  as  though  trying 
to  obey  that  insistent  note. 

"  You  look  too  tired  to  dance  any  more," 
said  Prentiss.  He  felt  that  it  was  an  outrage 
upon  her  race  that  the  brutal  and  barbarous 
music  should  affect  her  to  such  an  extent. 
"  By  the  way,"  he  cried,  turning  suddenly  to 
La  Cerf,  "  try  this  note.  I  think  it  would 
give  a  better  effect."  He  leant  over  him  and 
struck  it.  "  Isn't  that  more  the  impression 


j6  The  Washingtonians 

you  wanted  ?  No,  I  don't  quite  get  it,  either. 
Just  let  me  have  your  seat  a  moment,  please. 
Don't  get  impatient,  Virginia." 

The  other  arose,  reluctant  and  suspicious. 
He  wished  to  refuse,  but  his  social  training  had 
been  thorough  and  he  could  not  remain  seated 
if  he  wished  to  show  any  pretence  of  gracious- 
ness.  Moreover,  there  still  lingered  between 
the  young  men  the  influence  of  the  old  author- 
ity the  master  had  over  his  pupil. 

Prentiss  played  the  notes  with  an  improvised 
variation.  "  Do  you  think  that's  an  improve- 
ment ? "  he  asked. 

"It  isn't  the  same  thing,"  answered  Vir- 
ginia. "  I  can't  dance  to  that !  " 

The  Indian  maintained  a  sullen  silence.  He 
despised  Virginia,  but  he  was  beginning  to  hate 
Prentiss. 

"  While  I'm  here,"  remarked  Prentiss,  pleas- 
antly, "  I  want  to  play  you  a  little  thing  I 
composed  myself  the  other  night.  If  you  both 
don't  say  that  it  makes  you  think  of  shepherds 
and  nymphs  dancing  on  the  green  meadows  I 
shall  be  disappointed." 

La  Cerf  frowned.  He  did  not  fully  under- 
stand the  reference  to  the  nymphs  and  shep- 
herds, and  he  felt  that  his  former  tutor  was 
talking  above  him. 

Prentiss  played  with  instinctive  breadth  and 
delicacy.  He  was  a  natural  musician,  but  his 
ambition  was  a  literary  one. 


The  Washingtonians  77 

"  This  is  the  music  to  the  words  of  a  little 
song  I  have  in  my  play.  It  is  at  the  end  of 
a  tragic  scene  between  husband  and  wife.  They 
are  interrupted  by  hearing  the  door-bell  ring. 
He  rushes  away,  and  while  the  servant  goes  to 
admit  the  expected  guest  she  sits  down  at  the 
piano  and  sings  this  song  to  her  own  accom- 
paniment. And  the  curtain  goes  down  on  her 
sitting  alone,  singing.  Do  you  like  the  idea 
of  it,  Virginia  ?  " 

"  Very  much,"  she  answered.  Her  face  was 
burning.  She  felt  vaguely  shamed.  All  desire 
to  dance  had  left  her.  She  resumed  her  former 
seat  by  the  table  and  smoothed  out  the  crum- 
pled canvas. 

Prentiss  turned  around  on  the  piano  stool. 
"  Do  you  remember  the  time  a  crowd  of  us 
fellows  went  camping  and  how  we  used  to  sing 
nights  ?  You  were  the  only  one  of  us  who 
killed  a  deer,  La  Cerf.  I  believe  I'll  run 
up-stairs  and  get  those  old  pictures  of  the 
camp,  which  that  travelling  photographer 
took." 

While  he  was  gone  neither  of  the  two 
spoke,  but  looking  up  she  met  his  sombre 
gaze.  She  could  not  fathom  it,  yet  that 
vague  sense  of  shame  left  her  and  gave  place 
to  happiness.  She  seemed  to  exist  in  a  dream, 
wild,  sweet,  and  full  of  pain.  Between  the 
Indian  and  herself  there  was  a  secret,  she  felt, 
a  mysterious,  wonderful  consciousness  of  each 


78  The  Washingtonians 

other,  and  this  Prentiss  could  not  touch,  nor 
interrupt. 

"  I  have  brought  my  treasure-box,"  he  cried, 
returning.  He  sat  down  on  the  rug  like  a 
boy. 

"  I  thought  only  girls  kept  treasure-boxes," 
said  Virginia,  amused.  "  What  is  that  roll  ?  " 

"  My  diplomas  for  my  Bachelor's  degree 
and  my  Master's.  And  this  is  a  cane  I  got 
away  from  a  freshman  in  a  rush.  And  this  is 
a  medal  I  won  in  a  running  race.  I  never  did 
much  in  that  way  although  I  had  an  excep- 
tional athletic  build."  He  had  a  wistful  desire 
that  she  should  admire  him  as  a  young  man 
and  not  look  upon  him  as  a  thin-blooded 
scholar.  "  Here  are  the  camp  pictures.  Here 
you  are,  La  Cerf,  with  your  deer  over  your 
shoulders." 

La  Cerf  took  the  picture  eagerly,  his  dark 
face  lighting  with  his  brilliant  and  unsympa- 
thetic smile.  "  I  remember,  and  say,  Prentiss, 
have  you  forgotten  the  girl  who  used  to  bring 
the  milk  ?  We  ought  to  have  a  picture  of 
her." 

Prentiss  nodded.  How  many  hours  he  had 
been  a  forced  and  wearied  listener  while  the 
other  boasted  of  his  flirtations  ! 

"  Why,  here  is  a  picture  of  Portia  that  I 
never  saw.  It  must  have  been  taken  before 
she  was  married,"  said  Virginia,  holding  out 
the  card  to  him. 


The  Washingtonians  79 

"  How  beautiful  she  was,"  he  answered,  tak- 
ing it.  "  I  used  to  think  she  had  an  expres- 
sion like  an  angel.  Yet  there  never  was  any 
one  who  had  less  sentiment  about  her." 

"  I  want  to  see,  too,"  said  La  Cerf,  stretch- 
ing out  his  hand  impatiently.  The  picture 
absorbed  his  entire  attention.  After  a  little  he 
rose  to  go,  refusing  to  remain  until  General 
and  Mrs.  Matthews  should  return. 

Prentiss,  putting  away  his  pictures  later, 
could  not  find  the  one  of  Mrs.  Matthews. 

"  It  has  probably  slipped  under  these  papers, 
or  you  didn't  notice  it  among  the  other  pho- 
tographs when  you  put  them  back.  It'll  turn 
up  all  right,"  Virginia  assured  him.  "  Let 
me  tie  this  ribbon  around  your  diplomas, 
David,  a  string  doesn't  look  nice." 

She  took  a  bit  of  ribbon  from  her  work- 
basket  and  tied  it  around  the  parchment  in  a 
dainty  bow. 

He  thought  she  had  never  been  lovelier. 
She  folded  up  her  embroidered  apron,  and 
laid  it  neatly  over  her  sewing  on  the  basket. 
He  handed  her  her  thimble  which  had  dropped 
on  the  floor.  It  was  a  gold  one,  and  bore  her 
aunt's  name,  Lucy. 

"  Poor  Uncle  Phineas  was  quite  sad  to-night 
when  he  was  reading  Wordsworth,"  she  re- 
marked, reminded  of  the  incident  by  the  name. 
"  When  he's  President  I  hope  he  won't  have 
to  work  so  hard."  She  had  made  up  her 


8o  The  Washingtonians 

mind  to  the  absolute  fact  of  his  ultimate  elec- 
tion with  a  simplicity  which  irritated  Portia. 

"  You  remind  me  of  two  lines  from  Words- 
worth," he  rejoined,  looking  up  at  her  with 
boyish  ardour. 

"  '  The  sweetest  thing  that  ever  grew, 
Beside  a  human  door.'  " 

He  lighted  a  candle  for  her,  and  opened 
the  door  into  the  hall  when  she  was  ready  to 
go.  She  thanked  him  with  a  smile  of  ineffable 
sweetness,  but  her  eyes  had  the  expression  of 
one  dreaming,  and  she  forgot  to  say  good- 
night. He  watched  her  ascend  the  broad  stairs 
with  her  candle  and  work-basket.  What  were 
her  thoughts,  he  wondered  ?  A  girl's  thoughts, 
he  told  himself,  and  far  too  sweet  for  the 
mind  of  a  man. 

Virginia  lay  awake  until  nearly  dawn,  unable 
to  sleep  for  thinking  of  La  Cerf.  Now,  she 
saw  him  sitting  by  the  fire,  with  the  warm  re- 
flection on  his  handsome  profile  ;  now,  mount- 
ing his  horse  to  ride  back  to  town  ;  again  as 
in  the  picture,  grave  and  proud,  holding  the 
deer  over  his  shoulder.  She  recalled  his  men- 
tion of  the  girl  who  had  brought  the  milk  to 
the  camp,  and  the  jealous  thought  was  sharp 
as  a  knife.  At  last  she  fell  asleep,  but  wak- 
ened suddenly,  sobbing. 

She  had  dreamed  that  he  was  dead. 


Chapter   VII 

FORD'S  THEATRE  was  crowded  to 
standing-room.  It  was  an  oddly  mingled 
audience,  representing  the  floating  as  well  as 
the  permanent  population  of  Washington. 
Army  blue  was  the  predominating  colour. 
Fashionable  women  filled  the  loges,  and  made 
of  them  so  many  flower-boxes,  variegated 
nosegays,  on  either  side  of  the  house.  Their 
shoulders  had  the  droop  of  the  prevailing 
mode ;  their  hair  was  uniformly  parted  and  in 
curls,  generally  loosely  tied  with  a  snood  of 
ribbon.  Most  of  these  women  belonged  to 
the  old  Washington  families,  and  were  South- 
ern in  their  sympathies. 

Officers  sat  together  in  groups  of  two  or 
three  in  front  of  the  pit  and  stared  freely  at 
the  occupants  of  the  boxes.  Here  and  there 
a  representative  could  be  seen  with  a  lobbyist 
at  his  elbow,  and  the  eye  of  suspicion  followed 
every  change  of  expression  on  both  faces. 
With  the  call  to  war  had  come  enormous  de- 
mands for  supplies.  The  national  crisis  roused 
the  purest  patriotism  in  the  majority,  but  it 
brought  to  the  surface  the  selfishness  of  the 
81 


82  The  Washingtonians 

baser  element,  whose  fingers  itched  for  a  share 
of  the  plunder. 

The  War  and  Navy  Departments  had  been 
placed  virtually  in  a  state  of  siege  by  agents  of 
unscrupulous  firms,  who  sought  to  foist  upon 
the  government  damaged  firearms,  bad  beef, 
and  mouldy  biscuit ;  by  ship-builders  and  rail- 
road companies  seeking  their  own  advancement. 
In  conspicuous  seats  were  two  Jews  in  green 
and  red  uniforms,  copied  after  a  French  regi- 
ment. They  belonged  to  a  volunteer  com- 
pany organised  in  New  York  with  secret 
instructions  to  buy  up  cotton  in  the  South. 
But  the  United  States  officers  had  confiscated 
the  great  bales  in  the  name  of  the  government, 
and  the  members  in  the  company  were  obliged 
to  use  the  money  in  their  pockets  to  buy 
themselves  out. 

It  was  generally  believed  that  the  war  was 
drawing  to  a  close.  Hope  of  success  on  either 
side  was  giving  way  to  a  prayer  that  bloodshed 
might  cease.  Intense  sectional  feeling  had 
become  passive  in  the  city  which  had  been  the 
scene  of  such  multitudinous  emotion. 

The  audience  differed  not  so  much  in  kind 
from  that  which  gathered  in  the  theatre  at  the 
beginning  of  the  war,  as  in  the  enrichment  of 
bitter  experience.  The  old  inhabitants,  with 
Southern  sympathies,  had  ceased  to  applaud 
openly  the  victories  of  the  rebels ;  the  better 
of  the  lobbyists,  birds  of  prey  though  they 


The  Washingtonians  83 

were,  had,  nevertheless,  become  somewhat 
subdued  by  the  cry  of  anguish  that  went  up 
over  the  country,  even  if  they  felt  no  doubt 
of  their  inherent  American  right  to  thrust 
their  fingers  into  Uncle  Sam's  pie  and  draw 
out  the  plums. 

The  soldier  who  had  gone  forth  a  boy  issued 
from  the  hospital  a  gaunt  man,  pathetically 
cheerful.  The  statesman  who  had  been  con- 
fident that  the  war  would  last  only  a  few 
months  had  grown  old  under  the  burden  of 
increasing  anxieties. 

The  orchestra  was  composed  of  a  Confeder- 
ate regimental  band,  which  had  deserted  in  a 
body  with  its  instruments,  and  was  permitted 
to  play  Union  airs.  The  people,  with  the 
license  which  a  time  of  war  brings,  stamped  to 
the  music  and  sang  in  snatches.  Suddenly, 
"  Maryland,  my  Maryland,"  was  played  to 
wild  applause.  The  faces  of  the  women  who 
wore  conspicuously  the  secession  rosette  grew 
pale.  Baltimore  was  occupied  by  the  United 
States  troops.  To  the  victor  belongs  the  spoil, 
and  the  Yankees  had  taken  as  their  right  the 
national  music  of  the  South. 

By  half-past  eight  the  seats  were  filled  and 
the  arrival  of  the  President  was  awaited  im- 
patiently. It  had  been  announced  that  he 
would  attend  the  play.  The  gallery  applauded 
a  tall  usher  by  mistake,  and  laughed  good- 
naturedly  at  the  error.  At  nine  o'clock  the 


The  Washingtonians 


curtain  went  up  with  the  box  still  unoccu- 
pied. Word  was  received  that  he  had  been 
detained. 

The  empty  box,  richly  festooned  with  silken 
flags,  held  a  subtle  fascination  for  Mrs.  Mat- 
thews, and  her  gaze  kept  turning  to  it  from 
the  stage  where  the  "  Lady  of  Lyons "  was 
being  played. 

Count  Polonski  leant  forward  and  whispered 
in  her  ear :  "Whom  do  you  see  beneath  those 
stars  and  stripes  ?  " 

"  I  was  thinking  of  my  father,"  she  an- 
swered, simply. 

She  looked  toward  the  box  again.  The 
fancy  that  her  father  was  there  was  instantly 
dispelled  by  a  sombre,  shadowy  likeness  of 
the  President,  an  opposing  ghost  which  her 
own  imagination  had  involuntarily  summoned. 
The  illusion  was  a  shock  to  her,  and  she  looked 
quickly  away. 

"  Why  did  you  shiver  ?  "  asked  the  count. 
"  Did  some  one  walk  over  your  grave,  as  the 
old  wives  say  ?  " 

"  Hush,"  whispered  Mrs.  Haas,  who  was 
intent  on  the  play.  She  frowned  at  them 
both.  Her  small  face,  so  pale  and  eerie, 
overshadowed  by  her  wonderful  hair,  wore  a 
strained  expression.  Already  the  sentiment 
of  the  play  was  beginning  to  tax  her  emotions. 

"  My  dear  lady,"  he  retorted,  "  the  play 
is  absurd.  The  real  entertainment  lies  this 


The  Washingtoniahs .  *          .,-,1.85 

side  of  the  footlights."  He  indicated  the 
audience  by  a  gesture.  Her  attention  was 
once  more  absorbed  by  the  drama,  and  she 
did  not  hear  him.  He  smiled  and  settled 
back  comfortably  in  his  chair.  Mrs.  Mat- 
thews had  invited  him  and  his  wife  to  be  her 
guests  for  the  evening.  To  her  surprise  he 
had  come  alone.  A  headache  confined  the 
countess  to  her  room.  Portia  guessed  that 
the  headache  was  due  to  the  strain  on  her  eyes 
occasioned  by  the  count's  persistent  demand 
that  she  should  read  aloud  to  him.  His 
own  eyesight  was  deficient.  Behind  his  eye- 
glasses his  light  hazel  protruding  eyes  con- 
tinually contracted  and  dilated.  He  now  put 
on  a  second  pair  of  glasses  of  powerful  lens 
over  the  first  to  enable  him  to  distinguish  the 
faces  of  the  audience.  He  was  a  stout  man, 
carrying  his  head  well  back.  The  upper  part 
of  his  body  was  so  large  as  to  be  slightly  out 
of  proportion.  He  had,  however,  a  look  of 
great  intellectual  distinction  which  at  once  con- 
quered in  the  person  who  met  him  for  the  first 
time  any  consciousness  of  his  slightly  gro- 
tesque figure.  At  present  he  was  the  only 
man  in  the  party. 

General  Matthews,  after  seating  his  wife 
and  Virginia,  had  gone  to  spend  an  hour  at 
his  club.  Mr.  Haas,  whose  newspaper  duties 
required  most  of  his  evenings,  would  meet 
them  at  supper.  Before  the  close  of  the  first 


86  The  Washingtonians 

act  the  tall  usher  again  entered  the  Presidential 
box  and  laid  a  bunch  of  roses,  with  long,  flut- 
tering ribbons,  on  the  railing.  It  was  the 
signal  for  renewed  applause. 

The  actors  stopped  the  performance  until 
the  Presidential  party  was  seated.  A  harsh 
voice  shouted  some  angry  criticism  of  the 
President,  and  in  a  second  the  offender  was 
lifted  from  his  chair  by  two  indignant  soldiers, 
and  carried,  cursing  and  kicking,  into  the 
street.  At  last  the  cheering  ceased,  not,  how- 
ever, before  several  Rebel  officers,  out  on 
parole,  were  forced  to  join  in  the  clapping  by 
catcalls  and  ominous  hisses  from  the  watchful 
gallery. 

On  the  stage  the  impassioned  Claude  Mel- 
notte  resumed  his  wooing  of  his  fair  inamorata, 
asking : 

"  Dost  thou  like  the  picture,  Pauline  ?  " 

In  Mrs.  Matthews's  box  Count  Polonski, 
laughing,  repeated  in  her  ear,  "  Dost  thou  like 
the  picture,  Pauline  ?  " 

She  was  gazing  at  a  lady  sitting  directly 
across  from  her,  well  forward  in  her  chair, 
fanning  herself  energetically  as  her  glance 
roved  over  the  house. 

Portia  flushed  with  annoyance,  and  looked 
away. 

General  Matthews  came  in  at  the  close  of 
the  second  act.  He  appeared  in  better  spirits 
than  for  days  past.  A  certain  brightness  of 


The  Washingtonians  87 

expression,  the  electric  sparkle  of  his  eyes, 
bespoke  an  inspiring  hour  with  his  friends, 
and  an  invigorating  walk  in  the  crisp  winter 
night. 

Polonski  watched  him  with  admiration  as  he 
stood  behind  his  wife's  chair,  looking  out  over 
the  audience.  Here  was  a  splendid  specimen 
of  the  American  volunteer  soldier.  The  direct 
gaze  of  his  shrewd  eyes  was  really  attractive, 
and  how  perfectly  uninteresting  he  was  !  The 
count  chuckled.  He  was  never  bored ;  life 
was  always  fascinating. 

"  What  aristocrats  you  are,  you  army 
men ! "  he  said.  "  Now,  much  as  I  have 
enjoyed  my  evening  here,  I  wish  I  might 
have  heard  you  all  exchanging  your  experi- 
ences on  the  field.  But  no,  we  civilians  are 
only  allowed  to  admire  our  heroes  from  a  dis- 
tance, and  to  comment  respectfully  on  the 
missing  toe  or  nose." 

Matthews  laughed.      He  liked  the  Russian. 

"  Where  is  Countess  Polonski  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  She  is  not  well,"  answered  his  wife.  "  Did 
you  see  Mr.  Haas  ?  " 

He  did  not  reply,  and,  glancing  up,  she 
saw  that  his  eyes  were  fixed  on  the  Presi- 
dent. How  well  she  knew  that  look  of 
loyal  devotion  !  How  many  times  she  her- 
self had  received  it!  It  seemed  almost  an 
indication  of  stupidity,  like  the  undiscrimi- 
nating  gaze  of  a  wide-eyed,  loving  child.  He 


88  The  Washingtonians 

accorded  her  father's  political  rival  the  same 
look  he  did  her.  He  bent  down. 

"  Won't  you  go  over  with  me  to  speak  with 
the  President  and  his  wife  ?  I  should  like  to 
have  you  pay  your  respects  to  them  with  me. 
Never  mind  her  attitude.  I  don't  think  the 
poor  woman  quite  knows  what  becomes  her 
position.  Perhaps  you  may  unwittingly  have 
antagonised  her." 

His  enthusiasm  chilled  her.  She  saw  he  had 
no  thought  of  her  father's  ambition  and  could 
not  appreciate  the  fact  that  her  feeling  toward 
the  President  could  not  be  entirely  cordial. 
She  resented  his  primitive  masculinity.  His 
instinct  was  always  to  assume  that  his  opinion 
was  naturally  the  more  justifiable.  But  she 
was  too  proud  to  show  him  that  she  was 
wounded,  and  rose  at  once. 

"  Won't  you  come  with  us,  Virginia  ?  "  she 
asked,  drawing  her  lace  wrap  about  her  shoul- 
ders. "  Count  Polonski,  we  will  leave  Mrs. 
Haas  in  your  care.  Keep  her  from  throwing 
her  flowers  at  the  actor.  I  can  see  she's  taken 
with  him." 

"  Oh,  how  can  you  !  "  protested  Mrs.  Haas, 
annoyed. 

The  three  were  obliged  to  pass  s;ngle  file 
even  through  the  wide  aisle  at  the  back  of  the 
house,  so  voluminous  were  the  hoop-skirts  of 
the  two  ladies.  Attention  centred  on  Portia, 
attracted  by  her  height  and  fairness.  In  her 


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hair  she  wore  a  single  white  camellia.  She  was 
too  famous  a  beauty  to  be  made  self-conscious 
by  the  heads  that  turned  to  watch  her  pass  or 
by  audible  comments.  The  absence  of  admira- 
tion alone  would  have  compelled  her  attention. 
She  was  not  unlike  the  French  woman  who 
wept  for  the  first  time  when  the  street  gamins 
did  not  stop  their  play  to  stare  at  her  lovely 
face  as  she  passed  by. 

They  reached  the  official  box  as  several 
other  people  were  leaving.  The  President 
reached  out  a  cordial  hand  to  Matthews. 

"  Hello,  general !  "  he  cried,  accompanying 
the  words  by  so  hearty  a  grip  as  to  split  his 
white  glove  across  the  palm.  "  It  strikes  me 
you  look  pretty  well  for  a  sick  man.  Mother," 
he  added,  "  here's  Mrs.  Matthews."  His 
wife  bowed  formally  and  sought  to  emphasise 
the  marked  coolness  of  her  greeting  by  a  show 
of  affability  toward  Virginia,  whom  she  had  met 
before  and  to  whom  she  had  taken  a  fancy. 

"  Sit  down  here  beside  me,  child,"  she  com- 
manded, drawing  aside  her  skirt.  While  the 
rest  engaged  in  a  general  conversation  she 
devoted  herself  to  the  young  girl,  quite  turning 
her  back  on  Portia.  She  was  a  small,  stout 
woman,  with  an  expression  at  once  aggressive 
and  timid.  She  was  dressed  in  the  low-necked 
gown  of  the  Victorian  era.  It  was  made  of 
shot-green  silk.  On  her  head  was  a  bright 
wreath  of  artificial  flowers.  Her  plump  arms 


90  The  Washingtonians 

were  bare  to  the  shoulder.  Her  pearl-coloured 
gloves  fastened  with  two  buttons  at  the  wrist. 
She  began  to  talk  about  dreams,  for  she  was  at 
that  time  interested  in  Spiritualism. 

"  I  should  think  any  one  would  be  very 
unhappy  who  put  faith  in  dreams,"  said  Vir- 
ginia, who  had  struggled  hard  to  overcome  the 
depression  left  by  her  own  dream  of  La  Cerf. 

"  There's  more  in  dreams  than  we  know  of," 
rejoined  the  other.  "  I  had  a  friend  once  who 
was  away  from  home  visiting,  and  one  night  she 
dreamed  of  her  grandmother  and  woke  to  find 
her  room  filled  with  the  odour  of  clove  pinks. 
She  knew  the  old  lady  set  great  store  by  clove 
pinks  and  she  could  not  help  taking  this  as  a 
sign  of  her  death.  She  also  noticed  that  little 
blue  flames  appeared  on  the  bed-spread  and 
then  went  out.  The  next  day  she  received 
word  that  her  grandmother  had  died  that 
night." 

"  Oh,  I  should  be  afraid  to  believe  in 
dreams ! "  cried  Virginia.  "  I  should  be 
afraid  !  " 

"  You're  young,"  said  the  lady,  "  you're 
young  yet.  I'm  a  great  believer  in  omens," 

Her  poor,  worried,  discontented  face  dark- 
ened with  some  secret  anxiety,  and  she  sighed 
heavily.  The  burden  of  life  in  the  White 
House  had  been  too  much  for  her.  Her 
Western  ideas  of  frank  hospitality,  her  natural 
kindness  of  impulse,  had  been  misunderstood ; 


The  Washingtonians  91 


while  her  personal  antipathies,  which  had  been 
quick  and  strong,  her  lack  of  concealment  when 
offended,  had  worked  against  her  social  success. 
In  Mrs.  Matthews  she  encountered  a  woman 
of  New  England  ancestry  with  a  brilliancy  and 
charm  that  rivalled  the  Southern  women,  and 
with  the  frank  daring  of  the  Westerner.  In  the 
very  suavity  of  her  courtesy  the  harassed  wife 
of  the  President  divined  a  merciless  amuse- 
ment. It  was  no  wonder  that  she  had  grown 
timid  and  resentful  of  her  own  sex. 

The  girl's  compassionate  heart  divined 
vaguely  the  disturbed  mind,  the  shattered 
nervous  system,  of  her  companion.  Her  ex- 
treme youth,  her  sweet  face,  appealed  to  the 
motherly  heart  of  the  older  woman. 

"  Here,  child,"  she  said,  "  have  these  roses. 
They're  fitter  for  you  than  for  me.  You  must 
come  and  go  out  driving  with  me  some  day. 
You  don't  look  any  too  strong.  I  suppose 
you've  lots  of  beaux,  though  ;  but  don't  be 
in  too  big  a  hurry  to  marry.  Take  your 
time." 

Virginia  shook  her  head,  laughing.  The 
idea  of  not  marrying  pleased  her.  She  knew 
her  uncle  and  Portia  would  never  permit  her 
to  marry  La  Cerf,  and  so  she  dreamed  of  those 
maiden  years  which  should  enshrine  his  sacred 
memory.  Her  companion  smiled  in  sympathy. 
She  would  like  such  a  girl  as  this  to  become 
her  daughter,  but  as  she  remembered  the  son 


92  The  Washingtonians 

who  had  died  the  smile  faded  and  she  frowned 
to  keep  back  the  tears. 

"  How  very  handsome  that  woman  in  black 
velvet  is  down  there  next  to  the  pillar," 
whispered  Virginia  to  her.  "  1  suppose  she 
dresses  so  plainly  in  war  time  because  some 
people  think  it  shows  good  taste  and  patriot- 
ism. I  think  black  velvet  and  point  lace  are 
so  genteel.  Nothing  is  more  becoming.  And 
real  lace  is  always  so  elegant."  She  was  almost 
ready  to  pray  that  her  companion  would  take 
some  hint  from  what  she  said.  "  Yes,"  she 
repeated  heroically,  her  shy  heart  fluttering  as 
she  looked  steadfastly  past  the  shot-green  silk, 
"  there  is  nothing  as  elegant  as  black  velvet 
and  point  lace." 

Portia  remained  standing,  talking  to  the 
President.  She  told  him  that  she  would  stay 
but  a  moment,  and  it  was  not  worth  while 
sitting  down.  Others  who  had  gathered  to 
see  him  talked  in  the  corridor  outside.  One 
of  these  discovered  an  old  friend  in  Matthews, 
and  buttonholing  him,  pushed  him  into  a  corner. 
No  one  thought  of  hurrying  Mrs.  Matthews. 

The  President  was  very  tired.  His  eyes 
were  sunken  deep  in  his  head,  and  even  the 
mellow  light  could  not  soften  his  ghastly 
pallor. 

"I've  had  a  mighty  hard  day,"  he  said. 
"  I  couldn't  seem  to  get  warm  even  with  a  big 
fire  in  my  office,  so  I  went  for  a  stroll  in  the 


The  Washingtonians  93 

sunshine.  In  a  way  it  did  me  good,  but 
nothing  seems  to  reach  the  tired  spot."  He 
touched  his  chest. 

"  I  hope  our  troops  have  met  with  no  fresh 
defeat,"  she  rejoined,  anxiously. 

He  shook  his  head.  "  I'm  not  afraid  we 
won't  worry  through  the  war  all  right.  It's 
that  postmastership  at  Jonesville  that's  bother- 
ing me."  There  was  a  twinkle  in  the  cavern- 
ous eyes. 

She  found  it  difficult  to  talk  with  him,  not 
that  his  wife's  attitude  embarrassed  her,  but 
because  she  felt  in  him  an  intuitive  knowledge 
of  her  inner  self,  and  knew  that  she  on  her 
side  was  unable  to  fathom  him. 

"  I  enjoyed  the  trees  on  my  walk  this  after- 
noon," he  remarked.  "  I  think  I  enjoy  them 
best  when  they  are  not  in  leaf.  I  thought, 
too,  that  the  shadow  of  the  bare  branches  on 
the  snow  was  like  the  profile  of  the  tree.  Did 
you  ever  happen  to  have  that  thought  ? " 

"  I  think  I  have,"  she  answered,  smiling, 
with  an  unusual  impulse  of  sympathy,  so  deep 
was  her  own  love  of  nature.  "  But  I  care 
more  for  the  trees  in  budding  time.  Then 
you  still  have  the  fine  tracery,  but  with  a 
promise  added  to  it." 

He  was  about  to  answer  when  he  caught 
sight  of  a  soldier  hovering  near  the  door. 
"  Well,  my  Green  Mountain  boy,"  he  cried, 
"  when  did  you  get  out  of  the  hospital  ? " 


94  The  Washingtonians 

The  tall  Vermonter  was  still  ill  enough  to 
turn  white  instead  of  red,  when  embarrassed. 

"  I  left  my  best  leg,  sir,  to  hold  down  my 
place  there."  He  laughed  bravely,  and  shifted 
his  crutches.  His  right  leg  was  gone  at  the 
thigh. 

"  Good  for  you,"  said  the  President.  "  Some 
of  our  fellows  had  to  leave  both  legs  !  Mother, 
I  want  you  to  let  that  little  girl  come  here.  I 
want  her  to  meet  one  of  our  soldiers." 

The  Vermonter  bowed,  as  yet  too  unaccus- 
tomed to  his  crutches  to  risk  shaking  hands. 
He  was  now  wrought  to  such  a  condition  of 
nervous  shyness  that  the  perspiration  stood 
on  his  forehead,  and  he  nodded  abruptly  to 
the  President  over  Virginia's  head. 

"  Good-bye,"  he  said,  accompanying  the  nod 
by  a  shining  look  of  perfect  devotion.  The 
group  of  fashionable  people  waiting  to  pay 
their  respects  parted  to  allow  him  to  hobble 
through.  He  passed  back  to  his  seat,  con- 
scious, proud,  and  happy.  He  had  been  led 
by  the  longing  of  his  homesick  heart  to  speak 
again  to  the  great  man  who  had  visited  him 
in  the  hospital ;  to  meet  again  the  sympathetic 
gaze  of  those  sad  eyes,  which  were  yet  so 
wise ;  to  feel  once  more  the  warm  glow  of 
appreciation  at  the  inevitable  jest.  He  settled 
himself,  trembling  with  weakness,  in  his  seat, 
and  laid  his  crutches  on  the  floor.  He  laughed 
to  himself.  "He  thought  it  was  lucky  I  didn't 


The  Washingtonians  95 

have  to  leave  both  legs,"  he  murmured.  "  Well, 
I  can't  say  as  it  wasn't." 

The  President  was  saying  good  evening  to 
Virginia.  "  Now,  my  little  friend,"  he  added, 
"  you  must  go  to  see  my  boys  in  the  hospitals. 
A  fresh  face  does  them  good.  We  must  all 
do  our  share  while  this  great  trouble  lasts." 

Mrs.  Matthews  reached  her  own  box  again 
just  as  the  curtain  rose  on  the  third  act.  She 
noticed  that  her  hands  trembled  slightly,  and 
she  concealed  them  under  her  shawl.  She 
thought  of  her  father  at  home,  absorbed  in 
his  work,  and  he  seemed  very  far  away,  as 
though  he  were  indeed  not  in  touch  with  the 
actual  world.  Suppose  it  passed  him  by  ! 

"  What  did  that  soldier  want  ?  "  inquired 
Count  Polonski.  "  We  sat  over  here,  and 
watched  humbly  while  you  three  hobnobbed 
with  the  great ;  didn't  we,  Mrs.  Haas  ?  " 

"  Oh,  he  merely  wanted  to  shake  hands  with 
the  President,"  answered  Matthews,  abstract- 
edly. He  divined  in  his  wife  a  new-born 
austerity  toward  himself.  His  earlier  good 
spirits  of  the  evening  died,  and  he  wondered 
in  what  he  had  offended  her. 


Chapter   VIII 

AFTER  the  theatre  they  went  to  an 
unfashionable,  old  oyster-house,  where 
they  were  met  by  Mr.  Haas  and  a  friend. 
The  latter  was  a  tall,  loosely-jointed  man, 
conspicuously  attired  in  a  brown  coat,  a  white 
waistcoat  and  puff  cravat,  and  lavender  panta- 
loons. A  fringe  of  whiskers  framed  a  smooth- 
shaven  face  of  almost  infantile  blandness.  This 
impression  was  immediately  dispelled,  however, 
by  a  direct  glance  from  his  spectacled  eyes, 
which  had  the  shrewd,  blue,  merry,  innocent 
look  of  the  immortal  boy,  into  whose  soul 
the  greed  of  money-getting  or  the  baser  pas- 
sions of  mankind  had  never  entered. 

He  was  Greenleaf,  the  editor  and  proprietor 
of  the  New  York  Chronicle^  and,  as  he  stood 
shaking  hands  with  his  new  acquaintances,  he 
was  the  one  person  in  the  little  and  able  group 
who  possessed  the  inborn  quality  of  genius. 

"  I  hadn't  expected  to  meet  any  ladies,  to- 
night," he  said,  as  they  seated  themselves  at 
the  table,  "  least  of  all,  you,  Mrs.  Matthews. 
It's  a  great  pleasure.  I  declare  I  was  feeling 
lonely."  He  stroked  his  chin,  regarding 
96 


The  Washingtonians  97 

them  the  while  with  a  quaint  look,  humour- 
ous, pleased,  and  irresistible,  so  that  they  all 
smiled. 

"  Is  he  laughing  at  us,  I  wonder,"  thought 
Mrs.  Matthews,  "  or  are  we  laughing  at  him  ?  " 

"  I  was  kind  of  homesick,"  he  continued,  "  I 
declare  I  was.  I  miss  the  rumble  of  New 
York.  I  knew  I  couldn't  sleep,  so  I  was 
going  to  write  for  the  rest  of  the  night." 

"  When  I  plucked  you  by  the  sleeve  and 
took  you  off  with  me,"  finished  Haas. 

"  What  will  you  all  have  first  ?  "  inquired 
General  Matthews,  consulting  the  bill  of  fare. 

"  I  think  we  had  better  have  some  oysters 
first,"  answered  his  wife,  "  and,  while  the  rest 
of  you  are  eating, —  I  don't  care  for  any  my- 
self, —  I  will  mix  a  salad." 

"  Ah,  you  Americans,"  sighed  the  count, 
"  how  resourceful  you  are  !  You  almost  make 
us  discontented  with  the  women  of  our  own 
country.  And  do  let  us  all  insist  that  the 
landlord  of  this  charming  place  bring  us  good 
coffee.  It  will  really  pay  to  order  it  freshly 
made  for  us.  Did  I  ever  tell  you  how  we  were 
driven  to  housekeeping  ?  We'd  found  all  the 
hotels  to  be  insufferable,  and  so  went  to  a 
boarding-house.  How  well  I  remember  our 
first  dinner.  We  sat  down  to  the  table  at  five 
and  finished  within  a  barbarous  half-hour.  We 
were  told  the  black  coffee  would  be  sent  to  our 
room.  At  eight  o'clock  the  maid  was  sent  up 


98  The  Washingtonians 

with  it.  And  I  assure  you  that  was  as  near  as 
that  woman  ever  got  two  things  together." 

Greenleaf  took  a  naive  enjoyment  in  the 
company.  He  had  seen  little  of  worldly  soci- 
ety, and  he  was  delighted  to  find  that  these 
people  were  neither  haughty  nor  inclined  to 
put  on  airs.  He  thought  Mrs.  Haas  difficult 
to  talk  to,  and  wondered  if  Haas  really  regarded 
her  as  a  creature  of  flesh  and  blood.  But 
Mrs.  Matthews  wyas  a  woman  with  whom  he 
felt  himself  in  sympathy  at  once,  and  he  entered 
gaily  into  her  laughing  anxiety  regarding  the 
seasoning  of  the  salad. 

"  Count  Polonski  likes  plenty  of  cayenne, 
but  I  know  Mrs.  Haas  doesn't.  How  shall 
we  decide  ?  "  she  asked. 

He  drew  a  coin  from  his  pocket  and  covered 
it  on  the  table  with  his  palm. 

"  Tails  he  loses,  heads  he  wins.  Russia  has 
it !  "  he  cried,  exultingly,  allying  himself  with 
the  winning  side. 

u  Don't  spoil  it  for  me  !  "  cried  Mrs.  Haas, 
indignantly.  "  Let  the  count  add  his  own 
cayenne." 

General  Matthews  and  Virginia  were  both 
quiet.  He  was  tired,  and  his  wound  was  be- 
ginning to  throb,  while  disappointment  at  having 
missed  La  Cerf  at  the  theatre  depressed  her. 
She  had  not  seen  him  for  a  fortnight,  and  feared 
that  he  might  be  ill ;  but  a  new-born  self-con- 
sciousness restrained  her  from  inquiring. 


The  Washingtonians  99 

"  If  you  are  not  hungry,  Virginia,"  suggested 
her  cousin,  "  you  might  play  for  us." 

Their  party  was  the  only  one  in  the  room, 
so  she  rose  and  sat  down  at  the  shabby  square 
piano  without  embarrassment.  She  tried  to 
remember  David's  song  in  his  play,  but  failed. 
Suddenly  she  began  the  monotonous  striking 
of  two  keys. 

"  Mercy  on  us  !  "  cried  Mrs.  Haas.  "  Do 
you  want  to  put  all  our  nerves  on  edge  ? " 

"  It's  the  Apache  snake  dance,"  she  an- 
swered, over  her  shoulder. 

Haas  shook  his  head.  "  No,  no,"  he  said, 
pursing  up  his  lips.  "  A  young  maiden  should 
not  play  such  barbaric  music.  Let  us  have 
4  The  Rose  and  the  Nightingale,'  Miss  Vir- 
ginia." 

Polonski  was  last  to  finish  his  supper. 
Mrs.  Matthews,  who,  like  her  father,  was  an 
abstemious  eater,  felt  that  she  could  pardon 
even  a  greater  appetite  in  the  Russian  if  he 
only  took  his  food  with  less  deliberate 
enjoyment. 

"  Well,  Mr.  Greenleaf,"  he  remarked,  lei- 
surely lighting  a  cigarette,  "  are  you  still  on 
the  fence  in  regard  to  the  presidency  ?  " 

Greenleaf  put  his  thumbs  in  the  armholes 
of  his  waistcoat,  and  replied  by  a  wink.  Mrs. 
Matthews  laughed  with  the  rest,  but  with 
secret  misgivings.  She  knew  that  Haas  had 
arranged  this  meeting  between  her  and  his 


ioo  The  Washingtonians 

chief  in  the  hope  that  she  might  influence  the 
policy  of  the  Chronicle  to  her  father's  advan- 
tage. Its  editorials  were  now  devoted  solely  to 
criticism  of  the  present  administration,  and 
to  the  exploitation  of  Greenleaf's  theory  that 
the  government  should  buy  the  slaves  from 
the  south  and  thus  end  the  war.  As  she  saw 
that  the  Russian  intended  to  continue  the  con- 
versation he  had  begun,  she  resigned  herself 
to  any  strained  feeling  that  might  ensue.  She 
could  be  sure  of  him  neither  as  friend  nor  foe, 
and  knew  that  he  would  be  too  clever  not  to 
see  through  any  attempt  on  her  part  to  turn 
the  conversation  into  another  channel. 

"  Speaking  merely  as  an  outsider,"  he  went 
on,  "  I  should  say  that  a  change  of  administra- 
tion might  end  the  war,  provided,  of  course, 
that  a  strong  man  were  pressed  into  service. 
Now,  why  doesn't  your  paper  support  —  ?  " 

"  Whom  ?  "  cried  Greenleaf,  excitedly,  ready 
to  down  the  name  at  once.  But  the  other 
shook  his  head,  smiling. 

"You  foreigners  are  pretty  deep,"  said  the 
editor,  good-naturedly.  "  But  what  I  want 
you  to  understand,  Mr.  Polonski,  is  that  the 
next  election  will  prove  that  the  great  body  of 
the  American  people  will  assert  its  right  not  to 
be  ruled  by  a  military  despotism.  I  tell  you 
this  because  I  don't  want  people  abroad  to  get 
such  false  ideas  of  us." 

"  You  must  understand  that  my  interest  in 


The  Washingtonians  101 

this  deplorable  war  cannot  be  a  personal  one," 
answered  the  count,  gravely,  "  and  that  I  am 
therefore  in  a  way  unprejudiced.  My  wife 
reads  your  editorials  aloud  to  me  every  day, 
and  I  combat  every  sentence.  It  affords  me 
the  daily  stimulus  of  a  contest  with  a  brilliant 
foe,  and,  while  I  am  always  worsted  in  the 
argument,  nevertheless  I  am  unconvinced,  and 
await  the  next  day's  issue  of  your  paper  to 
enjoy  the  taste  of  battle  again." 

If  his  words  were  calculated  to  draw  forth 
some  expression  of  opinion  from  the  other,  he 
was  not  disappointed.  Greenleaf,  used  only 
to  the  society  of  New  England  women,  whose 
intellectual  attitude  of  mind  was  such  that  they 
never  doubted  the  gallantry  of  a  man  if  an  im- 
portant discussion  caused  him  to  forget  their 
presence,  was  unaware  that  he  broke  any  social 
convention  now  in  commencing  a  political 
tirade.  He  launched  forth  into  a  bitter  dis- 
cussion of  the  administration.  They  all  recog- 
nised the  excitable  tone  of  the  brilliant  editorials 
which  had  gained  his  paper  national  popularity. 
As  he  continued,  Mrs.  Matthews  thought  she 
understood  for  the  first  time  how  it  was  that 
the  farmers,  particularly  those  of  the  Western 
States,  too  far  from  the  scene  of  activities  to 
appreciate  the  cares  that  beset  the  President, 
should  find  satisfaction  in  the  Chronicle 's  con- 
firmation of  their  suspicions  that  the  party  in 
power  was  not  keeping  its  promise  to  bring  the 


IO2  The  Washingtonians 

war  to  a  speedy  close.  And,  doubtless,  the 
paper's  reiterated  prophecy  of  ultimate  ruin  to 
the  country  afforded  them  in  their  depressed 
condition  the  nervous  relief  which  even  a 
gloomy  excitement  brings. 

General  Matthews  was  evidently  distressed. 
He  did  not  wish  to  offend  his  wife  by  openly 
championing  the  President,  nor,  on  the  other 
hand,  could  his  irritable  military  spirit  bear 
the  conversation  with  patience. 

"  We  army  men  are  not  apt  to  be  good  at 
controversy,"  he  said,  "  but  it  strikes  me  that 
you  newspaper  men  wield  your  pens  behind 
our  swords." 

"  Mr.  Greenleaf,"  said  Portia,  smiling,  and 
laying  a  hand  on  his  arm  as  he  was  about  to 
answer,  "  you  mustn't  argue  with  my  husband. 
Why,  I  don't  dare  to  do  so  myself."  She 
rose  quickly.  "  Does  any  one  beside  myself 
realise  how  outrageously  late  it  is  ?  Tom, 
please  get  me  my  cloak.  It's  over  there  on 
the  chair  beneath  that  picture  of  Niagara  Falls. 
I  wonder  why  it  is  that  all  hotels  invariably 
have  a  hideous  painting  of  the  Falls  ?  " 

Greenleaf  watched  her  admiringly.  The 
deterring  touch  of  her  hand  on  his  arm  had 
been  subtly  flattering.  He  felt  that  it  signi- 
fied their  mutual  understanding  of  her  hus- 
band's lack  of  power  to  reason.  When  he 
shook  hands  good  night  with  Matthews  he 
did  so  indulgently.  Patriotism  was  to  him 


The  Washingtonians  103 

the  chief  virtue,  and  he  respected  the  soldier's 
outburst  even  though  it  amused  him. 

"  You  have  given  me  a  charming  evening, 
Mrs.  Matthews,"  said  Count  Polonski.  "  How 
delightful  that  long-legged  editor  is  !  I  hope 
he  will  wink  at  me  again." 

"  What  are  you  two  laughing  at  ?  "  asked 
Greenleaf,  sauntering  toward  them,  his  hands 
clasping  his  hat  behind  his  back.  "  What's 
the  joke?" 

Mr.  Haas,  who  was  fastening  his  wife's  fur 
cape  and  tying  her  lace  scarf  about  her  head 
as  though  she  were  a  child,  bent  down  and 
whispered  to  her. 

"  Mr.  Greenleaf  and  I  are  going  over  to 
my  club  for  an  hour  or  so,"  said  Count  Po- 
lonski. "  You  go  our  way,  too,  for  a  couple 
of  streets,  don't  you,  Haas  ?  " 

The  four  saw  General  and  Mrs.  Matthews 
and  Virginia  to  their  carriage.  As  it  was 
about  to  start  Mrs.  Haas  dropped  her  hus- 
band's arm,  and  ran  out  to  the  curb. 

"  Wait  a  minute,  Portia ;  I  want  to  speak 
to  you ! "  she  called.  "  Can't  you  go  shop- 
ping with  me  to-morrow,  and,  Portia  —  " 

"What?"  asked  Mrs.  Matthews,  putting 
her  head  out  of  the  door. 

"  I  want  to  speak  to  you,"  murmured  her 
friend,  standing  on  tiptoe.  "  Wilhelm  wished 
me  to  tell  you  that  Mr.  Greenleaf  stays  over 
until  to-morrow  afternoon,  and  that  he  will 


104  The  Washingtonians 

try  to  take  him  for  a  morning's  stroll  in  the 
market.  It  would  be  well  if  you  happened  to 
run  across  them." 

"  Elise,  you  chatterbox,"  cried  her  husband, 
"  are  you  going  to  keep  us  standing  here  all 
night  ?  " 

Count  Polonski  and  his  companion  had 
walked  on  slowly  to  the  corner.  Suddenly 
the  Russian  stood  still  in  the  light  streaming 
from  a  drug  store,  and  waved  his  cane. 

"  Come,"  he  called,  "  if  you  want  to  see 
something  charming." 

A  rope  had  been  stretched  across  the 
street,  and  a  dancer  was  performing  in  mid-air. 
There  was  a  large  crowd  of  spectators.  It 
was  a  mild  winter  night  with  a  full  moon. 
The  street  lamps  stretched  away  like  two  rows 
of  stars,  and  on  the  tops  of  opposite  buildings 
red  and  blue  lights  were  burning.  In  this 
strange  mingling  of  lights  and  the  white  re- 
flection of  the  snow,  the  dancer  pirouetted 
back  and  forth  on  the  slender  rope. 

"  It's  a  woman,  isn't  it?  "  said  the  Russian. 
He  put  on  his  second  pair  of  glasses  and 
peered  upward. 

"What  a  pretty  figure,"  said  Mrs.  Mat- 
thews. "  Tom,  can  you  see  ?  " 

"  I'm  not  looking,  said  Virginia  from  inside 
the  carriage.  "  I'm  afraid  she'll  fall." 

"  You  sentimental  child  !  "  cried  her  cousin. 
"  I've  a  mind  to  make  you  look." 


The  Washingtonians  105 

"  How  presumptuous  we  poor  mortals  are," 
spoke  the  count.  "  Ordinary  insects  hide 
themselves  in  the  flowers  when  the  sun  goes 
down,  but  it's  the  human  butterfly  that  dares 
to  flutter  and  dance  unabashed  by  the  solem- 
nity of  night.  I  suppose  she  doesn't  ever, 
know  the  moon  is  shining;  she  must  be  so 
dazzled  by  those  red  and  blue  bonfires.  lt\ 
just  as  I  was  telling  you  to-night,  Mrs.  Haas. 
We  all  want  our  red  and  blue  bonfires.  We 
like  the  tinsel  and  colour  of  the  stage,  and 
forget  that  the  audience  is  more  interesting." 

"  You  may  feel  that  way,"  she  answered, 
"  but  I  don't.  I  like  lovers.  When  Claude 
told  Pauline  of  his  palatial  home  1  thought  of 
all  you  had  told  me,  Wilhelm,  of  your  ances- 
tral castle.  I  hope  that  won't  turn  out  to 
be  a  cottage,  as  his  did.  I  should  die  of 
mortification." 

"  Wait  till  I  take  you  back  to  Germany  and 
you  shall  see,"  answered  Haas,  looking  down 
on  her  proudly.  Was  she  not  some  Rhine 
maiden  of  his  country's  lore,  with  her  hair  of 
fairy  gold  and  her  elfish  face  ? 

"  Come  on,  let's  get  nearer,"  said  Greenleaf, 
eager  for  a  frolic. 

General  Matthews  impatiently  ordered  his 
coachman  to  drive  on.  He  had  seen  his  wife's 
depression  vanish  when  she  met  the  editor. 
Now  he  guessed  rightly  that  her  renewed  good 
spirits  were  due  to  fresh  political  hope.  His 


106  The  Washingtonians 

nature  was  too  loyal,  as  his  choice  had  been 
too  single,  to  allow  him  ever  to  doubt  the 
wisdom  of  their  marriage,  but  he  felt  they  were 
drifting  apart.  She  settled  herself  comfortably 
in  the  corner  to  get  some  sleep  on  the  way 
home.  The  street  lamps  as  they  passed  them 
threw  vanishing  gleams  of  light  on  her  face,  as 
she  sat  with  closed  eyes  serenely  unconscious 
of  her  husband's  frowning  gaze. 

Virginia  too  was  silent,  staring  out  miserably 
through  the  window  at  the  white  landscape. 
Her  hands  were  tightly  clenched  in  her  lap. 

"  I  want  to  see  him,"  she  repeated,  mentally, 
"  I  want  to  see  him.  That  is  all  I  want  in  the 
world." 

She  had  never  before  known  what  it  was  to 
be  rebellious.  She  was  angry  in  a  vague  and 
terrible  way  new  to  her ;  angry  with  life  it- 
self that  it  should  deny  her  the  supreme 
desire  of  her  heart.  Although  she  had  spoken 
lightly  of  the  significance  of  dreams  to  the 
President's  wife  that  evening,  her  own  recent 
dream  of  La  Cerf 's  death  still  terrified  her. 

They  left  the  city,  with  its  noise,  its  misery 
and  crowds,  its  sombre  hospitals  and  the  bright 
gambling-halls,  the  airy  tight-rope  dancer,  and 
turned  into  the  country  road.  On  either  side 
the  fields  stretched  away  white  and  still. 
Portia  opened  her  eyes  and  looked  out  at 
the  trees  that  sped  by,  at  the  familiar  land- 
marks shrouded  in  the  mystery  of  night ;  the 


The  Washingtonians  107 

scattered  negro  cabins  ;  an  old  church  ;  a  stream 
with  its  thin  covering  of  ice  sparkling  in  the 
moonlight. 

She  stretched  out  her  hand  for  her  hus- 
band's. "  Isn't  it  peaceful  and  lovely  after  the 
city  ?  Aren't  you  glad  we  live  in  the  country, 
dear?  "  Happiness  brought  out  the  sweetness 
of  her  nature,  and  she  was  full  of  hope  for 
the  morrow.  "  Did  you  have  a  nice  time, 
Virginia  ? " 

There  was  no  reply,  and  she  guessed  that 
she  was  asleep.  She  leant  forward  to  see  that 
the  girl  had  her  cloak  wrapped  around  her  and 
inadvertently  touched  her  cheek.  It  was  warm 
and  wet  with  tears. 

She  said  nothing,  but  when  she  was  ready 
for  bed  that  night  she  put  on  a  wrapper  and 
went  down  to  Virginia's  room  with  a  glass  of 
hot  water  and  wine. 

The  girl  was  sitting  on  the  edge  of  her  bed 
braiding  her  hair,  a  slight  wistful  figure  in  her 
white  nightgown. 

"  Drink  this  now  while  it's  hot.  It  will 
settle  your  nerves,"  said  Portia,  taking  a  seat 
beside  her  and  smiling  cheerily.  She  was  not 
at  all  alarmed  by  Virginia's  tears,  and  laid  the 
cause  of  them  to  weariness.  "  The  President 
took  quite  a  fancy  to  you,  I  thought,"  she 
continued,  hoping  to  divert  her  thoughts. 

The  attempt  was  successful.  For  the  mo- 
ment Virginia  forgot  her  disappointment  and 


io8  The  Washingtonians 

turned  an  earnest  face  to  her  cousin.  "  How 
sad  he  was  !  Oh,  Portia,  when  he  spoke  so 
kindly  to  me  I  know  just  how  that  poor  sol- 
dier felt  toward  him,  too.  But  his  eyes  were 
so  sad  that  I  felt  I  could  even  die  if  doing  so 
would  make  him  look  really  happy  just  once." 
Her  cousin  seized  her  shoulder  with  a  grasp 
that  hurt.  "  Do  you  know  what  you  are 
like  ?  "  she  asked,  sternly.  "  You  are  like  one 
of  those  harps  they  put  in  windows,  on  which 
every  breath  of  wind  plays  what  tune  it  will. 
You  have  no  stability  of  character,  but  take  on 
the  colour  of  any  one  you  happen  to  be  with. 
I  am  alarmed  when  I  think  of  your  future.  I 
do  not  know  when  you  may  fall  under  the 
spell  of  some  bad  man.  I  should  like  to  see 
you  safely  married  to  a  man  of  position  and 
years  to-morrow." 


Chapter  IX 

CITY  of  barracks  and  hospitals  though 
Washington  was  during  the  gloomy  days 
of  the  war,  it  still  retained  one  corner  of  cheer- 
ful bustle  and  confusion.  This  was  the  old 
market  down  near  the  Capitol.  Here  on  sunny 
mornings  gentlemen  strolled  smoking  and  gos- 
siping. Ladies  accompanied  by  negro  servants 
carrying  the  baskets  did  the  family  marketing. 
The  actors  and  actresses  whom  the  world  had 
flocked  to  see  the  evening  before  now  reversed 
the  position,  and  watched  their  last  night's  au- 
dience as  though  it  were  the  spectacle.  Under 
the  shed  that  ran  out  over  the  sidewalk  and 
beyond  the  market  proper  sat  the  humble 
vendors,  the  coloured  "  mammies."  Among 
them  was  an  old  couple,  gray-haired,  black, 
and  wizened,  who  had  bought  their  freedom 
and  now  had  an  independent  business.  Their 
soft  voices  besought  a  purchaser  in  every 
passer  by.  Their  wares  were  always  humble : 
eggs  and  a  few  chickens,  okra,  bunches  of  sas- 
safras, herbs,  cakes  made  of  corn  meal,  and 
pork.  They  added  whatever  wild  flowers 
might  be  in  season,  or,  if  the  flowers  were 
109 


no  The  Washingtonians 

gone,  other  beauties  of  the  wood,  branches  of 
autumn  leaves  or  dried  grasses.  Now  that 
the  Christmas  season  was  approaching,  they 
offered  branches  of  pine,  holly,  and  mistletoe, 
and  strung  polished  red  apples,  oranges,  and 
threaded  popcorn  about  their  crazy  stalls. 

Mrs.  Matthews  was  not  to  be  beguiled  by 
their  soft  blandishments,  their  artful  compli- 
ments pitched  in  a  key  to  reach  her  ears,  and 
she  passed  on  without  stopping. 

The  day  was  lovely.  She  had  enjoyed  the 
early  drive  into  town  and  found  herself  in 
the  best  of  spirits.  Presently  she  noticed  a 
group  of  gentlemen  near  the  fruit  stall.  They 
saw  her  almost  at  the  same  moment  and 
bowed. 

"  Good  morning,"  she  said,  stopping.  "  And 
what  are  you  doing  ?  Unless  you  are  all  men 
of  family  doing  the  marketing  for  your  wives 
I  fail  to  see  what  moral  right  you  have  here." 

"  Why  moral  ?  "  asked  Admiral  Peale. 

"  Because  if  you  are  not  here  to  pick  out 
chickens  and  select  vegetables  you  are  certainly 
here  to  gossip.  Now,  to  prove  it,  I  don't 
believe  one  of  you  five  would  dare  to  tell  me 
what  you  were  talking  about  just  now." 

"  Ah,  Mrs.  Matthews,  if  I  could  only  con- 
vince myself  that  these  other  gentlemen  would 
not  feel  betrayed,"  cried  the  admiral,  "  I 
would  tell  you." 

"  And  I  !     And  I  !  "  they  cried  in  turn. 


The  Washingtonians  1 1 1 

"  I  am  not  curious,"  she  retorted.  "  I 
merely  wanted  to  prove  you  all  guilty.  Let 
me  see,  let  me  see.  Which  one  of  you  shall 
I  choose  to  take  me  to  lunch  ?  Not  you, 
Lieutenant  Clark.  You're  so  handsome  that 
you'd  be  thinking  of  yourself  instead  of  me. 
As  for  you,  Mr.  Ralston,  you're  so  witty  and 
cynical  that  you'd  tempt  me  to  gossip,  and  we 
should  part  feeling  uncomfortably  suspicious 
of  each  other.  Admiral  Peale,  you'd  be  sure 
to  notice  if  the  table-cloth  had  a  spot.  And 
you,  Mr.  Haas,  are  planning  to  meet  your 
wife,  you  dear,  sentimental  German.  But  I 
will  choose  you,  Mr.  Greenleaf,  for  our  ac- 
quaintance has  yet  all  the  charm  of  novelty. 
Good  morning,  gentlemen." 

She  looked  back  laughing  over  her  shoulder 
at  the  other  four  as  she  bore  away  the  flattered 
New  Yorker.  Her  glance,  so  full  of  good-fel- 
lowship, was  irresistible.  It  was  intimate  and 
seemed  to  admit  their  knowledge  of  the  reason 
of  her  choice.  They  all  felt  a  thrill  of  sym- 
pathy, a  personal  devotion  to  her  cause. 

"  No  other  woman  in  Washington  can  com- 
pare with  her,"  said  Ralston,  pleased  with  her 
recognition  of  him  as  a  wit.  He  considered 
himself  a  social  Dean  Swift. 

"I'm  not  sure  whether  her  remark  to  me 
could  be  regarded  as  complimentary  or  not," 
commented  young  Clark.  "  I've  rather  won- 
dered why  she  never  invited  me  to  call." 


H2  The  Washingtonians 

"  A  little  shyness  on  her  part,  I  suppose," 
suggested  Ralston. 

Admiral  Peale  had  followed  her  with  an 
admiring  glance.  "  Well,  I  hope  she'll  pull 
in  Greenleaf.  That's  the  game  this  morning, 
isn't  it,  Haas?  He'd  make  a  strong  playing 
card  for  West.  Lord  !  She  has  as  much  spirit 
as  twenty  widows.  What's  this  I  hear  about 
Matthews  being  on  the  outs  with  his  father-in- 
law?" 

Such  was  Mrs.  Matthews's  fine  air  of  com- 
radeship as  she  walked  off  with  him  that 
Greenleaf  felt  he  was  not  unattractive  to  the 
most  brilliant  and  influential  woman  in  Wash- 
ington. She  admired  some  roses,  and  he 
insisted  upon  getting  them  for  her.  He  had 
never  bought  flowers  for  a  woman  before, 
although  he  had  taken  many  a  garden  bouquet 
to  his  wife  during  their  courting  days.  Under 
most  circumstances  he  would  have  blamed 
himself  now  for  extravagance.  He  had  long 
curtailed  his  personal  expenses  by  the  con- 
scientious query :  "  Do  I  really  need  this  ? 
Can  I  do  without  it?  " 

His  companion  received  the  roses  with 
such  pleasure,  and  so  enjoyed  their  odour  and 
colour,  that  he  was  charmed  with  his  own 
power  to  please.  She  selected  one  perfect 
pink  bud  and  drew  its  stem  through  his 
buttonhole. 

"  Mrs.  Matthews,"  he  said,  his  humourous 


The  Washingtonians  113 

mouth  twitching,  "  you  make  me  feel  what  a 
plain,  blunt  man  I  am." 

They  found  the  little  lunch-room  at  the 
back  of  the  market  unoccupied  and  seated 
themselves  at  one  of  the  small  tables. 

She  drew  off  her  gloves  and  smoothed  out 
the  fingers  with  habitual  nicety.  Her  face 
was  grave  and  her  eyes  downcast. 

He  watched  her  shrewdly  from  behind  his 
spectacles.  She  attracted  him,  but  distinct 
from  this  personal  liking  was  his  pride  in  her 
as  his  countrywoman.  Here  was  no  little 
nature  to  be  offended  by  frankness  on  his 
part.  He  felt  a  generous  impulse  to  open  the 
subject  of  which  they  were  both  conscious. 
There  was  a  touch  of  genius  about  the  man 
which  had  long  made  him  a  privileged  char- 
acter. People  felt  at  once  his  entire  genuine- 
ness, his  utter  lack  of  malice.  His  quaint 
shrewdness  was  guileless. 

"  Mrs.  Matthews,"  he  said,  "  I  always  did 
hate  beating  about  the  bush,  and  I'm  going 
to  strike  out  from  the  shoulder,  so  to  speak. 
You  see  I  have  to  keep  my  finger  on  the 
public  pulse.  It's  my  business,  and  so  I  know 
the  little  ins  and  outs  of  things.  So  when 
Haas  engineered  me  around  here  this  morn- 
ing I  suspected  something.  When  I  saw  you 
I  knew  at  once  what  was  wanted." 

Mrs.  Matthews  laughed.  "You're  not  a 
vain  man,  Mr.  Greenleaf." 


U4  The  Washingtonians 

"  No,  ma'am,"  he  answered,  smiling  with 
her,  "I'm  not,  leastways  not  about  women. 
Yet  I  could  see  from  the  first  that  you  and  I 
were  going  to  be  good  friends,  and  that's  why 
I  spoke  out  as  I  did  just  now.  I  under- 
stand how  you  feel  about  your  father.  Why, 
I  hope  my  little  girl  would  feel  that  way 
toward  me  if  I  wanted  any  office.  I  am 
a  warm  admirer  of  your  father,  but  I  can't 
change  the  policy  of  the  Chronicle  for  a  matter 
of  sentiment." 

"  I  didn't  intend  to  ask  you  to  do  so  as  a 
matter  of  sentiment.  I  hoped  to  be  able  to 
appeal  to  your  good  judgment.  You  know, 
Mr.  Greenleaf,  there  may  be  two  opinions  as 
to  the  policy  of  your  paper." 

So  she  was  carrying  the  war  into  his  own 
camp.  He  had  been  prepared  to  resist  all 
tears  and  feminine  appeals.  She  was  prov- 
ing herself  the  sensible  woman  he  had 
thought  her.  His  spirit  rose  to  the  coming 
discussion  with  her.  Her  cleverness  was 
stimulating.  But  he  was  doomed  to  disap- 
pointment. 

"  I  sha'n't  spoil  our  lunch  by  pursuing  this 
subject,"  she  said.  "  I  never  say  anything 
more  when  a  man  says  to  me,  in  effect,  that 
his  mind  is  made  up.  I  know  the  uselessness 
of  it.  Haven't  I  brought  up  my  husband  and 
father !  You  mustn't  think  I  am  hurt,  that  I 
don't  appreciate  you  have  good  reasons  on 


The  Washingtomans  115 

your  side.  And  then,  too,  I  know  that  you 
must  privately  honour  my  dear  father,  who  is 
one  of  the  noblest  men  on  earth.  Do  not 
blame  me  that  I  think  him  deserving  of  the 
highest  honour  the  nation  can  bestow  on  one 
of  her  servants." 

Her  gracious  acceptance  of  his  refusal,  her 
enthusiasm  for  her  father,  touched  him. 

"  No  one  knows  better  than  I  that  Secretary 
West  has  been  a  good  and  faithful  steward," 
he  answered. 

She  sighed.  "  He  is  much  depressed.  He 
feels  as  you  do,  that  the  President  is  mistaken 
in  his  dilatory  and  compromising  policy,  and 
it  is  this  that  makes  him  wish  to  take  the  reins 
of  government  into  his  own  hands." 

Each  found  the  other  stimulating  to  good 
talk,  and  they  had  a  merry  time  over  the 
homely  lunch  that  was  served  to  them.  She 
took  care  that  the  conversation  should  not 
become  personal  again. 

Greenleaf  was  a  plain  man,  and  he  loved 
the  common  people.  He  was  bound  up  in 
their  sorrows  and  their  joys.  He  was  inclined 
to  suspect  persons  of  fashion  of  heartlessness. 
When  the  reforms  he  agitated  in  his  paper 
attracted  the  attention  of  some  rich  philan- 
thropist, he  was  tempted  to  resent  the  proffered 
aid  as  condescension.  In  Mrs.  Matthews,  of 
whose  class  there  could  be  no  more  brilliant 
representative,  he  detected  no  arrogance  or 


n6  The  Washingtonians 

lack  of  sympathy  with  the  hard-working  peo- 
ple. He  recalled  the  little  supper  party  of 
the  previous  evening,  which  he  had  enjoyed 
thoroughly,  and  thought  afresh  that  he  had 
never  met  more  simple  and  unpretentious  peo- 
ple. He  had  the  emotional  and  sympathetic 
temperament,  a  kind  of  poet's  instinct  for 
divining  what  was  ideal  in  people,  so  that  he 
often  felt  a  naive  surprise  to  find  how  antag- 
onisms for  certain  persons  vanished  when  he 
was  brought  in  contact  with  them.  This 
power  of  deep  feeling  imparted  a  lyrical  quality 
to  his  prose. 

He  looked  at  his  companion,  and  realised 
how  much  she  resembled  her  father. 

"  What  a  pair  they  would  make  at  the  head 
of  things,"  he  thought.  West's  coldness  had 
repelled  him.  Now,  however,  he  felt  more 
sympathy  with  him,  realising  for  the  first  time 
that  he  had  suffered,  too,  from  the  President's 
deplorable  temporising. 

"  Mr.  Haas  told  me  you  thought  of  build- 
ing here  sometime,"  she  remarked.  "  I  think 
Washington  will  become  the  residence  city  of 
the  United  States.  The  people  it  will  natu- 
rally draw,  as  well  as  the  absence  of  all  factories, 
will  make  the  life  here  one  of  comparative 
leisure.  If  you  build  you  must  come  out 
near  us.  Things  are  moving  that  way,  and  all 
those  who  bought  land  the  other  side  of  the 
Capitol  are  regretting  their  mistake.  Father 


The  Washingtonians  117 

was  going  to  buy  on  that  side,  but  I  persuaded 
him  not  to.  1  have  a  very  good  business 
instinct." 

Her  suggestion  that  he  should  build  near 
her  father's  property  attracted  him.  His  wife 
was  entirely  domestic  in  her  tastes,  and  he 
had  no  time  for  social  life,  even  if  he  had  the 
inclination.  Yet  he  was  ambitious  for  his 
daughter,  and  he  thought  what  an  immense 
advantage  it  would  be  to  his  girl  to  be  under 
Mrs.  Matthews's  influence.  His  quick  imag- 
ination pictured  a  spacious  home  adjoining 
the  Wests'  old-fashioned  place. 

As  they  finished  luncheon,  he  himself  in- 
troduced again  the  subject  of  the  Chronicle's 
policy.  "  I  wish  I  could  help  you,  Mrs.  Mat- 
thews, but  I  can't  see  my  way  to  it." 

"  Don't  think  of  it  again  I  beg  you,"  she 
said,  quickly.  "  I  should  reproach  myself  if 
I  thought  it  would  still  cause  you  a  moment's 
uneasiness,  and  now  that  our  conversation  is 
no  longer  personal,  I  can  speak  frankly.  I 
think  the  fault  with  your  paper  is  that  it  has 
no  positive  policy." 

"  No  positive  policy  !  "  he  echoed. 

She  shook  her  head.  "  No,  it  just  scolds, 
like  an  old  wife." 

"  Do  my  editorials  convey  no  more  idea  of 
dignity  than  that  ?  "  he  cried,  his  eyes  dancing 
with  fun. 

"  Oh,  scolding  is  a  bad  habit !  "     She  leant 


n8  The  Washingtonians 

forward  earnestly.  "  I'm  very  far  from  jest- 
ing, Mr.  Greenleaf.  I  think  you  are  doing 
the  country  more  harm  than  good.  No  paper 
cries  for  peace  louder  than  the  Chronicle^ 
yet  declaims  more  bitterly  against  slavery.  I 
know  what  you  would  say,  that  both  ends 
would  be  served  if  we  would  buy  the  slaves 
from  the  South.  I  think  we  all  feel  that  now, 
even  those  of  us  who  cried  for  war.  I  myself 
think  the  war  was  inevitable.  But  all  that  is 
past.  No  money  would  settle  the  question  at 
this  late  day.  We  have  not  the  millions  you 
propose  to  offer,  nor  would  the  South  now 
accept  it.  Victory  on  the  field,  the  shedding 
of  more  blood,  and  that  alone,  will  bring  this 
fearful  trouble  to  an  end.  Yet,  like  an  obsti- 
nate old  wife,  who  still  cries  out  the  remedy 
that  would  have  applied  to  the  disease  only  in 
its  first  stages,  the  Chronicle  continues  to  ex- 
ploit a  cure  that  later  events  have  rendered 
inefficacious.  And  the  result  is  that  it  is  dis- 
loyal to  its  party ;  it  fosters  discontent  when 
society  is  already  in  a  dangerous  condition." 
She  smiled,  and  her  voice,  which  had  been 
intense  with  strong  feeling,  resumed  its  con- 
versational tone.  "  You  must  pardon  me  if  I 
speak  as  one  somewhat  moved.  All  my  tra- 
ditions are  Republican,  and  at  this  day  f  Peace 
Republicans  '  is  only  another  name  for  Demo- 
crats." 

"  So  you  think  you've  caught  a  Democratic 


The  Washingtonians  119 

bee  in  my  political  bonnet !  "  he  said.  "  What 
would  you  advise  ?  " 

"  That  the  Chronicle  should  come  out 
openly  as  a  free  lance,  or  else  support  its 
party,"  she  answered. 

He  showed  the  first  touch  of  passion  in 
their  conversation,  and  brought  his  hand  down 
heavily  on  the  table.  "  I  have  no  wish  to 
quarrel  with  my  party,  but  I  will  not  support 
it  if  the  President  is  renominated.  There  is 
not  a  man  whose  life  and  home  will  not  be 
in  danger  if  he  is  reflected.  The  Constitu- 
tion is  in  danger  of  being  destroyed  by  a 
military  despotism  unequalled  in  history.  I 
shudder  at  the  strife  and  anarchy  that  will 
result,  and  the  rivers  of  blood  that  will  flow 
afresh  if  there  is  no  change  made  in  the  Ad- 
ministration. I  see  the  weeping  mother,  the 
distracted  wife,  and  the  fatherless  children. 
I  see  the  desolated  home,  the  new-made 
grave,  where  the  brothers  who  died  by  each 
other's  hand  are  laid.  I  see  the  spirit  of 
the  people  broken  by  military  rule.  I  see 
the  country  plunging  into  a  gulf  of  national 
bankruptcy." 

She  recognised  the  touch  which  fired  his 
editorials.  Small  wonder  that  many  an  anx- 
ious and  honest  patriot  was  appalled  when 
reading  them  ! 

She  rose.  "  Can  you  then  wonder,  Mr. 
Greenleaf,  that  I,  feeling  as  you  do  that  we 


I2O  The  Washingtonians 

have  reached  a  national  crisis,  should  wish  to 
see  elected  a  man  who  will  have  the  moral 
force  to  bring  the  war  to  an  immediate  end  ? 
And  that  I,  seeing  such  a  man  in  my  own 
father,  whose  public  life  is  unsullied,  should 
have  that  patriotism  in  me  warmly  inspired  by 
the  best  love  of  my  life  ?  Should  you  be  in- 
clined to  judge  me  harshly  for  having  sought 
this  interview,  do  not  forget  that  your  daugh- 
ter's pride  in  you  may  sometime  lead  her  to 
extremes  as  great." 

"  Mrs.  Matthews,"  he  said,  "  I  think  you 
are  a  very  noble  woman.  I  only  hope  I  shall 
always  be  as  proud  of  my  girl  as  your  father 
must  be  of  you." 

She  merely  smiled  in  reply.  Her  heart 
was  beating  violently.  The  pink  roses  fast- 
ened on  her  cloak  were  blurred  to  her 
sight. 

They  went  out  of  the  room  silently,  and 
down  the  long  centre  aisle  of  the  market. 

"  It  isn't  one  o'clock  yet,"  he  said,  in  a 
surprised  tone.  "  I  thought  it  was  later." 

"  Poor  Mr.  Greenleaf,"  she  rejoined,  banter- 
ingly,  "  did  the  moments  spent  in  my  society 
lengthen  out  so  miserably  ?  You  must  forgive 
me.  Should  you  ever  build  near  us,  how  you 
will  fly  from  your  neighbours  !  I'm  sure  you'll 
say  to  your  wife  and  daughter,  '  My  dears, 
don't  have  that  Mrs.  Matthews  here  too  often. 
She  is  an  opinionated  woman,  and  sets  me  by 


The  Washingtonians  121 

the  ears  ! ' '  She  lowered  her  voice.  "  See, 
here  is  my  butcher  at  this  next  stand.  Isn't 
she  magnificent  ?  " 

The  person  she  indicated  was  a  large  woman 
with  a  fresh,  pleasant  face,  crowned  by  a  straw 
hat  tied  under  her  chin,  the  ribbons  falling 
over  her  ample  bosom.  Although  it  was 
winter,  she  wore  a  stiffly  starched  print  wrap- 
per of  dark  blue  and  white.  The  sleeves 
were  rolled  well  back  from  her  powerful  white 
arms. 

"Her  husband  died  several  years  ago,  and 
she  has  kept  up  the  business  since.  Wouldn't 
she  fit  into  one  of  Dickens's  novels  ?  I  am 
always  amused  at  a  feminine  touch  about  her 
stall.  There's  real  housewifely  pride  in  her 
recommendation  of  her  sausage,  and  she  always 
sticks  a  rose  or  two  on  her  spring  lambs,  as 
though  her  motherly  heart  were  touched  by 
the  slaughter  of  the  innocents." 

To  her  surprise,  her  companion  stopped. 
He  took  up  a  chicken  and  began  to  examine 
it  with  supreme  gravity.  He  poked  and 
"  hefted "  it,  and  looked  at  the  skin  under 
each  wing.  Then  he  returned  it  to  the 
counter. 

"  Ma'am,"  he  said,  sternly,  clearing  his 
throat,  "did  you  think  to  make  a  spring 
chicken  out  of  this  ancient  dame  by  pounding 
its  breast-bone  ?  No,  ma'am,  I  refuse  to  buy 
it.  I'll  not  countenance  such  deception  of  the 


122  The  Washingtonians 

trusting  public."  He  turned  to  go  with  an 
air  of  great  virtue,  and  as  he  did  so  acciden- 
tally knocked  to  the  floor  a  dozen  of  eggs  put 
aside  for  a  customer. 

The  proprietor  of  the  stand,  her  hands  on 
her  hips,  eyed  him  unflinchingly.  "  You  pay 
for  those  eggs  or  you  buy  that  chicken.  Take 
your  choice." 

The  editor  looked  at  her  and  knew  that 
he  had  met  his  match.  He  grew  suddenly 
meek. 

The  butcher  turned  her  attention  to  his 
companion.  "  And  what  will  you  be  after 
having  to-day,  Mrs.  Matthews  ?  "  she  inquired, 
quite  unruffled  by  the  incident. 

Portia  shook  her  head.  She  struggled  to 
control  her  laughter. 

Greenleaf's  jest  was  coming  a  trifle  dear  to 
his  prudent  purse. 

"If  I  pay  for  the  eggs  I've  already  lost 
them,  and  I  don't  get  the  chicken.  If  I 
buy  the  chicken  I  get  it,  and  I  don't  have 
to  pay  up  for  the  eggs,"  he  reasoned. 
"Wrap  it  up  for  me,  ma'am.  I  see  you're 
no  chicken  at  the  business.  I  worked  on 
a  farm  once  myself  and  learned  a  thing  or 
two." 

He  placed  it  carefully  in  his  carpet-bag,  al- 
though he  did  not  fancy  the  idea  of  lugging  it 
to  New  York.  But  he  was  too  economical  to 
entertain  the  idea  of  leaving  it. 


The  Washingtonians  123 

He  shook  hands  heartily  with  Mrs.  Mat- 
thews. "  Good-bye,  I  must  cut  and  run  if  I 
want  to  catch  my  train.  Don't  let  that  little 
matter  we  were  talking  about  bother  you.  I'm 
a  homely  fellow,  and  take  things  as  they're 
meant.  Good-bye." 

When  Mrs.  Matthews  reached  home  she 
found  her  husband  waiting  for  her. 

"  Where  have  you  been  ?  What  made  you 
so  late  ?  We  can't  go  for  our  drive  now." 
He  was  openly  disappointed. 

"  There  are  more  important  things  to  do 
of  a  morning  than  to  drive  out  to  the 
Soldiers'  Home,"  she  retorted,  her  usual 
composure  shaken  by  the  strain  under  which 
she  had  been.  "  I  lunched  with  Mr.  Green- 
leaf." 

He  stared  at  her  for  a  moment  in  shocked 
surprise.  "In  other  words,"  he  cried,  bitterly, 
"  you've  forgotten  your  self-respect.  Your 
foolish  ambition  to  see  your  father  nominated 
is  making  a  lobbyist  of  you.  My  heavens, 
Portia,  what  are  you  thinking  of!  But  don't 
imagine  I  shall  allow  you  to  do  this  again.  I 
have  some  rights." 

His  lack  of  self-control  made  her  realise  the 
necessity  of  keeping  hers.  "  Tom,  dear,  don't 
say  things  you  will  be  sorry  for  afterward.  I 
am  tired  and  nervous,  but  later  I  will  explain 
to  you." 

He  put  out  his  hand  as  she  took  a  step  for- 


124  The  Washingtonians 

ward.     "  Don't  come  near  me.     I  don't  want 
you  to  kiss  me." 

She  paused  with  a  look  of  disdain.  "  I 
hadn't  the  least  idea  of  kissing  you,"  she  an- 
swered, coldly,  and,  turning,  left  the  room. 


Chapter  X 

AVID,"  said  Virginia,  "  now  that  we're 
so  near,  won't  you  take  me  over  to 
the  gypsy  camp  ?  " 

"  I'll  think  it  over,"  he  answered.  "  How 
much  more  of  this  stuff  do  you  want  ?  " 

"  Just  a  little.  That  branch  just  above 
you,  and,  oh,  there's  a  good  one,  and  look  at 
that  other  spray,  too  !  Could  you  manage  to 
push  your  way  into  the  fence  and  get  that 
one  ?  Don't  prick  yourself,"  she  added,  warn- 
ingly. 

The  two  were  in  a  long  lane.  In  spring  it 
was  sweet  with  the  raspberry  and  elderberry 
bushes  that  bordered  the  rustic  fences  on 
either  side.  The  wild  pink  and  the  dog-rose 
were  in  less  abundance,  but  afforded  all  the 
blossoms  Virginia  could  gather. 

"  I  sometimes  think  that  spring  will  never 
come,"  she  said. 

Yet  the  place  was  not  without  a  bleak 
December  beauty  of  bare  thorny  branches  and 
the  scarlet  hips  of  the  dog-rose.  The  deep 
wagon-ruts  in  the  lane  were  frozen  over,  yet 
so  lightly  that  a  mere  touch  of  the  foot  broke 
125 


126  The  Washingtonians 

the  thin  ice,  and  showed  the  running  water. 
The  snow  was  nearly  gone  save  in  protected 
places.  Under  the  bushes  near  the  fence  some 
pure  white  drifts  covered  the  ground  where 
the  ferns  would  spring  up  a  few  months  later. 
The  sky  was  blue,  but  there  was  a  mist  in  the 
air  that  made  the  distant  woods,  dark  and 
gloomy  with  the  desolation  of  winter,  take  on 
softening  purple  shadows. 

They  had  come  out  to  gather  fir  and  rose- 
hips with  which  to  decorate  the  house  on 
Christmas.  She  was  carrying  a  large  light 
basket  filled  with  pine-cones  for  the  Christmas 
Eve  fire.  That  very  morning  she  had  taken 
out  and  polished  the  old  silver  loving-cup  of 
the  Fairfaxes  for  the  spiced  glee-wine  she 
would  make  in  such  abundance  that  there 
would  be  plenty  left  to  send  out  to  the 
servants. 

Prentiss  flung  down  the  last  armful  of  rose- 
hips on  the  mass  already  gathered.  This  after- 
noon spent  in  the  open  air  had  given  him  a 
more  youthful  and  happy  look.  His  fine  face 
had  a  better  colour  than  usual. 

"  Why  are  you  so  sweet,  Virginia  ?  Why 
don't  you  allow  us  to  take  Christmas  in  a 
gray,  middle-aged  sort  of  way  ?  But,  no,  you 
insist  that  we  forget  our  disillusions  and  almost 
persuade  us  to  our  old  belief  in  Santa  Claus. 
I  grow  impatient  to  think  I  cannot  be  a  little 
boy  again,  and  play  the  old-fashioned  kissing- 


The  Washingtonians  127 

games  with  you,  for  of  course  you  would  then 
be  a  little  girl,  too." 

"  Boys  are  always  thinking  of  kissing,"  Vir- 
ginia stated  with  a  superior  air.  "  If  we  go  to 
the  gypsy  camp  what  shall  we  do  with  all  this 
stuff  we've  gathered  ?  " 

"  I'll  put  it  out  of  the  way  under  these 
bushes,  and  we  can  get  it  again  on  our  way 
home.  Let  me  shove  the  basket  in  first." 
As  he  finished  the  task  she  called  his  attention 
to  a  turkey-buzzard,  perched  high  in  a  leafless 
tree. 

He  picked  up  a  clod,  and  sent  it  whirling 
through  the  air.  The  buzzard  flew  away,  cir- 
cling round  and  round,  flapping  its  dark  wings. 

"  Why  did  you  want  to  scare  it  ?  "  she  asked. 
"  I  thought  it  was  interesting  to  watch  it." 

He  laughed.  "  It  must  have  been  the 
eternal  boy  coming  out  in  me.  I  have  flung 
years  and  dignity  to  the  winds  this  afternoon. 
Virginia,  do  you  know  how  much  I  long  to 
kiss  you  ? " 

She  retreated  before  his  ardent  glance.  Then, 
when  at  a  safe  distance,  she  said,  mischie- 
vously, "  I'm  glad  you  don't  find  me  unat- 
tractive." 

Beneath  the  coquetry  of  the  woman  he  read 
the  timidity  of  the  child.  What  a  picture  she 
was  in  her  wine-coloured  suit,  with  her  muff 
and  big  hat ! 

"  Come,  if  you    want    to    go  to  the  gypsy 


128  The  Washingtonians 

camp.  We  must  hurry  if  we  would  be  back 
in  time  for  dinner,"  he  said. 

They  walked  on  in  silence  for  some  distance, 
each  constrained.  He  had  never  before  ad- 
dressed her  with  such  warmth  of  feeling.  Now 
he  was  so  quiet  that  she  felt  vaguely  she  was 
under  the  ban  of  his  displeasure.  She  glanced 
at  him  a  little  frightened.  She  had  never  been 
able  to  forget  that  Prentiss  had  been  her  tutor, 
and  she  accorded  him  an  involuntary  respect. 
Her  mind,  quick,  sensitive  to  beauty,  despis- 
ing the  arduous  toil  that  real  scholarship  de- 
manded, was  awed  by  the  young  man's  love  of 
learning.  The  imperious,  feminine  nature  so 
strong  in  her  wished  to  deal  only  with  the  re- 
sult and  not  the  means ;  she  would  have  the 
flower  of  scholarship  at  once,  and  when  she 
found  that  this  meant  much  work  first,  she 
rebelled.  She  suggested  that  while  he  read 
aloud  to  her  from  the  classics  she  would  sew, 
privately  thinking  that  thus  she  would  accom- 
plish something. 

"  I  find  my  mind  comprehends  better  when 
I  have  also  the  mechanical  relief  of  sewing," 
she  had  added,  artfully. 

But  he  had  answered  unsuspiciously  that  if 
she  felt  that  way  she  needed  intellectual  train- 
ing, and  that  she  must  learn  to  concentrate  her 
energies  better.  He  set  her  more  difficult 
tasks,  and  she  learned  the  lessons  out  of  sheer 
pride,  lest  he  should  think  her  stupid.  The 


The  Washingtonians  129 

subject  of  the  sewing  was  not  mentioned  a  sec- 
ond time.  For  an  hour  every  evening  after 
dinner  he  became  her  teacher,  exacting  and 
full  of  enthusiasm  for  the  subject. 

"  Don't  you  find  that  you  are  learning  to 
enjoy  studying  more  ?  I  used  to  hate  it,  too, 
and  had  to  use  all  my  will  to  keep  at  my 
books,  but  now  I  never  know  what  it  is  to  feel 
mentally  fatigued.  Weariness  is  physical  with 
me.  Yet  I  sometimes  feel  as  if  I  had  never 
brought  the  full  force  of  my  mind  to  bear  on 
my  studies.  Sometime  I  shall  do  a  piece  of 
creative  work  ;  then  I  will  know." 

Secretary  West,  with  his  never-failing  sense 
of  justice,  had  insisted  upon  paying  Prentiss 
for  his  instruction. 

"  Otherwise  I  should  have  to  engage  a  gov- 
erness for  her,"  he  had  said,"  and  I  prefer  you." 

So  the  arrangement  had  gone  on  for  a  year 
until  Virginia  had  looked  up  one  evening  to 
find  that  her  tutor's  attention  and  not  her  own 
wandered,  that  his  eyes  rested  more  often  on 
her  than  on  the  book. 

The  woman  in  her  triumphed  over  the 
schoolmaster.  She  would  not  study,  she  re- 
mained away  from  the  library  of  an  evening 
when  she  chose,  and  soon  the  arrangement 
was  definitely  ended  by  her  going  abroad  with 
Portia. 

Yet  in  a  subtle  way  his  old  authority  over 
her  held  when  she  returned.  The  conscious- 


130  The  Washingtonians 

ness  of  it  existed  in  the  background  of  her 
thoughts. 

Now  as  she  walked  on  by  his  side  her  timid- 
ity vanished,  and  she  cast  several  rebellious 
glances  at  him.  Why  should  he  be  her  com- 
panion instead  of  La  Cerf?  It  might  have 
been  so  if  he  had  not  offended  the  Indian 
the  last  time  he  called.  She  had  not  seen  him 
since.  Every  evening,  reading,  sewing,  or  play- 
ing chess  with  the  Secretary,  her  attention  had 
been  strained  to  hear  the  door-bell.  Her  heart 
had  beaten  violently  when  the  servant  entered 
to  announce  a  guest,  and  the  tumultuous 
throbbing  was  succeeded  by  sickening  disap- 
pointment. She,  who  before  had  not  known 
reserve  any  more  than  a  child,  was  now  all  on 
guard  with  pride  for  fear  her  secret  might  be 
guessed. 

Prentiss  felt  her  glance  and  looked  down  at 
her. 

She  smiled  quickly.  Not  for  the  world 
would  she  have  hurt  his  feelings.  And  her 
quickened  power  of  sympathy,  because  of  her 
hidden  grief,  appreciated  how  pathetic  his  hap- 
piness was.  Never,  never,  could  she  love  him  ! 
She  was  no  longer  embarrassed  nor  timid,  and 
she  slipped  her  little  hand  through  his  arm. 

"  How  can  I  keep  steps  with  you  if  you 
take  such  long  strides?  Now,  let's  start  to- 
gether and  try." 

He  suited  his  step  to  hers.     "  Was  I  walk- 


The  Washingtonlans  131 

ing  too  fast  for  you  ? "  His  whole  being 
warmed  to  the  light  touch  on  his  arm.  He 
was  infinitely  touched  by  her  innocent  confi- 
dence, but  he  felt  no  regret  for  the  embarrass- 
ment he  had  caused  her  a  few  moments  since. 
He  was  glad  even  to  have  said  the  words. 
Ah,  if  he  could  but  turn  now  and  fold  her 
very  gently  in  his  arms ;  gently,  not  to  startle 
her,  but  closely  so  she  could  not  go. 

"  Look  at  the  sun,  Virginia.  See  how  low 
it  is  getting.  We  shall  not  be  back  in  time 
for  dinner." 

They  were  nearly  to  the  woods.  She  looked 
back  at  the  low  sun.  It  would  be  only  an 
hour  before  the  sky  would  take  on  the  glory 
of  colour  which  would  end  the  short  winter 
day.  She  turned  her  gaze  again  to  the  trees 
crowding  one  another,  pushing  out  their  bare 
branches.  How  close  and  gloomy  now  these 
woods  that  only  lately  had  flamed  with  the 
splendour  of  autumn !  Had  she  indeed 
dreamed  that  when  the  forest  budded  green 
again  in  spring  she  would  wander  here  with 
La  Cerf  ? 

She  hung  back,  clinging  more  closely  to 
her  companion's  arm.  "  I  am  afraid." 

He  laughed  at  her.  "  After  all  your  brave 
talk  about  seeing  the  gypsies  !  " 

"  I  am  not  afraid  of  them.  I  don't  know 
what  I  was  afraid  of."  She  had  grown  a  trifle 
pale. 


ij  2  The  Washingtonians 

He  was  amused  and  inclined  to  tease  her, 
and  so  hastened  their  steps  until  they  stood 
well  within  the  forest.  The  woods  sloped 
down  a  hill  to  a  creek.  On  this  sheltered  side 
the  gypsies  were  encamped.  The  unusual 
mildness  of  the  season  enabled  them  to  camp 
out  most  of  the  winter.  When  it  became  too 
cold  they  abandoned  the  woods  and  went  into 
the  city  to  get  their  livelihood  as  wandering 
musicians  and  beggars.  Often  the  children 
were  put  in  schools.  Virginia's  spirits  revived 
at  the  cheerful  scene  that  opened  before  them. 

"  I'm  glad  we  came,"  she  said,  brightly,  with 
the  quick  change  of  mood  he  found  so  fasci- 
nating. 

Trees  had  been  cut  down  and  a  space 
cleared.  Several  canvas-covered  wagons  served 
instead  of  tents  for  sleeping  purposes.  A 
ragged  wash  was  hung  out  to  dry.  One  gar- 
ment, a  child's  pink  calico  frock,  fluttered 
gaily. 

Several  dark-browed  women,  with  kerchiefs 
tied  over  their  heads,  seated  in  a  group  near 
the  fire,  affected  indifference  toward  the 
strangers. 

"  They  are  waiting  to  discover  whether  we 
came  out  of  mere  curiosity  or  wish  to  have 
our  fortunes  told,"  whispered  Prentiss. 

The  children,  however,  came  crowding  up 
to  greet  them.  The  oldest  of  them,  a  boy, 
rode  up  on  a  pony. 


The  Washingtonians  133 

Virginia  smiled  and,  stooping,  patted  the 
cheek  of  the  youngest. 

Another  girl,  encouraged,  took  her  hand 
and  asked  her  a  question  in  the  Romany 
tongue. 

She  shook  her  head,  wondering  what  the 
child's  eager  words  meant.  "  She  has  eyes 
like  Countess  Polonski,"  she  said  to  Prentiss. 
The  girl,  in  a  passion  at  not  being  understood, 
flung  the  hand  she  held  violently  from  her. 

"  She  says  you  want  your  fortune,  fifty  cents," 
explained  the  boy  on  the  pony,  eyeing  them 
with  bold  and  scornful  gaze. 

"  Where  did  you  learn  to  speak  English  ?  " 
inquired  Prentiss. 

"  Circus.  See,"  he  cried,  boastfully.  He 
dropped  Indian  fashion  to  his  pony's  side. 

Prentiss  nodded  to  the  little  girl  and  showed 
her  some  money. 

A  smile  chased  away  her  sullen  look  and  she 
ran  off  toward  the  women.  One  of  them  rose, 
and  as  she  came  toward  them  they  saw  she  had 
a  young  baby  in  her  arms.  Over  her  black 
hair,  was  an  orange-coloured  handkerchief,  tied 
loosely  under  her  chin.  It  half  concealed  the 
enormous  gold  hoops  of  her  earrings.  Her 
carelessly  fastened  gown  revealed  her  splendid 
brown  throat.  The  blue  whites  of  her  flash- 
ing eyes,  the  gleam  of  her  fine  teeth  made 
brilliant  her  swarthy  face.  Pointing  to  the 
youngest  of  the  children,  who  held  sturdily  to 


134  The  Washingtonians 

Virginia's  finger,  she  laughed  artlessly  and  gave 
them  to  understand  that  that  child  also  was 
hers. 

They  sat  down  on  small,  three-legged  stools 
near  the  fire.  The  children  and  the  other 
women  clustered  around.  Prentiss  crossed 
the  gypsy's  palm  with  silver. 

The  fortune  proved  to  be  one  of  unblem- 
ished glory,  save  for  mysterious  hints  of  a 
letter  and  a  dark  woman.  It  was  so  typical 
that  Prentiss  could  not  restrain  his  laughter. 

"  Look  out  for  that  dark  woman,  Virginia," 
he  cried. 

"  Of  course  I  don't  really  believe  it,"  she 
answered,  with  dignity. 

"  You  make  me  think  of  the  old  woman  who 
said  she  didn't  believe  in  ghosts,  but  was  mortal 
afraid  of  them,"  he  rejoined. 

"You  not  believe,"  cried  the  woman,  "I 
tell  you  ver'  good  fortune.  I  prove.  I  show." 
From  the  bosom  of  her  gown  she  drew  forth 
a  shabby  pack  of  cards,  and  after  repeated 
shufflings  and  dealings  announced  that  the 
fortune  was  the  same. 

It  was  dusk  when  she  finished.  The  two 
realised  then  that  all  the  gypsies  had  returned 
and  had  drawn  around  them.  Fresh  fuel  was 
thrown  on  the  fire.  The  brightness  of  the 
flame  that  leapt  up  made  them  appreciate  how 
dark  it  had  become.  They  started  to  go,  but 
the  gypsies  urged  them  to  remain  to  supper. 


The  Washingtonians  135 

"  Let  us  stay,"  cried  Virginia.  "  You  know 
they  won't  worry  about  us  at  home  as  long 
as  they  know  I'm  with  you."  The  presence 
of  the  children  continued  to  keep  her  unafraid, 
although  the  men  who  had  returned  home 
were  a  rough  looking  set. 

Three  poles  were  crossed  above  the  fire  and 
an  iron  kettle  suspended  from  them.  In  this 
there  was  soon  bubbling  a  savoury  stew  of 
meat,  potatoes,  and  onions.  Coarse  dishes  and 
spoons  were  passed  around.  The  little  ones 
banged  the  dishes  with  the  spoon  impatiently. 
One  of  the  women  at  some  distance  away 
was  milking  a  cow.  The  animal's  gentle, 
beautiful  head  had  a  familiar  appearance  to 
Virginia.  She  recalled  the  fine  Jersey  Mrs. 
Matthews  had  missed  some  months  ago.  She 
looked  at  Prentiss  and  saw  that  he  read  her 
thought. 

"  If  it  is,"  he  murmured,  "  it  will  be  left 
behind  at  the  end  of  the  winter  and  Portia  will 
recover  it.  But  how  mad  she'll  be  to  think  of 
not  getting  a  cent  for  all  that  milk." 

A  generous  pot  of  coffee  was  made  for  the 
older  people,  while  the  children  were  given 
mugs  of  the  warm,  foaming  milk.  After  the 
meal  was  finished  a  box  of  cigars  was  passed 
around  by  a  cunning  looking  fellow.  Prentiss 
suspected  that  they  had  been  stolen,  but  he 
smoked  two  with  keen  enjoyment.  A  young 
gypsy  played  for  them  on  his  violin. 


136  The  Washingtonians 

A  natural  division  took  place  in  the  party. 
The  women  drew  off  together  and  the  men 
gathered  about  Prentiss.  To  his  surprise,  he 
found  them  interested  in  public  matters,  put- 
ting shrewd  questions  about  the  war  and  poli- 
tics. He  surmised  that  they  spent  their  days 
in  the  city  about  saloons  and  gambling  joints, 
and  returned  to  the  camp  at  night. 

The  fire  was  piled  higher.  It  had  grown 
slightly  colder,  and  the  mist  of  the  afternoon 
was  gone.  The  moon  was  shining  bright  and 
full.  The  handsome  mother  of  the  baby 
rocked  herself  to  and  fro,  hushing  the  little 
one  in  her  bosom,  as  she  laughed  and  chatted 
with  her  companions  around  Virginia.  The 
tired  children  seemed  to  have  disappeared  mys- 
teriously. They  had  crawled  into  the  sheltered 
wagons  and  gone  to  sleep.  The  habits  of 
other  wild  little  creatures  of  the  woods  were 
strong  in  them,  and  they  learned  early  to  look 
out  for  themselves.  Cards  were  proposed. 
Prentiss  knew  that  money  would  be  put  up, 
and  not  wishing  to  be  drawn  into  any  entan- 
glement, he  called  to  Virginia  that  it  was  time 
to  go. 

She  was  only  too  willing  to  go.  The  deep- 
ening of  night  imparted  a  sinister  wildness  to 
the  scene.  For  some  moments  her  thoughts 
had  been  dwelling  on  La  Cerf.  She  imagined 
how  his  songs  would  sound  chanted  in  these 
woods.  What  if  he  should  call  at  the  house 


The  Washingtonians  137 

this  very  evening?  She  was  seized  with  a 
frantic  eagerness  to  return.  She  looked  at  her 
watch,  a  tiny  gold  one  the  Secretary  had  given 
her  on  her  last  birthday.  It  was  after  eight 
o'clock. 

They  made  their  farewells  and  shook  hands 
all  around.  She  gave  the  mother  of  the  baby 
her  lace-trimmed  handkerchief,  and  Prentiss 
added  some  money  to  the  gift. 

So  they  went  away.  The  woods  with  the 
moonlight  sending  down  long  shafts  of  light 
between  the  trees  were  more  attractive  than  they 
had  been  in  the  dusk  of  the  closing  day. 

"We  mustn't  forget  to  stop  and  get  the 
rose-hips  and  pine-cones  we  left  in  the  lane," 
she  said.  "And  David,  if  Uncle  Phineas 
should  happen  to  ask  you  if  you  had  heard 
me  say  what  I  wanted  for  Christmas  you  might 
mention  a  turquoise  ring.  Do  you  remember 
last  year  that  he  gave  me  a  steel  engraving 
of  Washington  for  my  room  ?  I  could  have 
cried." 

They  passed  into  the  open  road,  she  talking 
idly,  he  silent.  How  much  longer  could  he 
keep  from  telling  her  of  his  love  ?  At  last  they 
came  to  a  deep  gully  and  their  shadows  were 
cast  down  into  it. 

"  Look,"  she  cried,  pointing,  "  look  at  our 
shadows.  Those  great  black  forms  moving 
with  us  are  you  and  I.  See,  that  is  myself 
pointing.  Isn't  it  fearful  ?  " 


138  The  Washingtonians 

"  It  is  gruesome,"  he  answered.  "  Let  us 
hurry  on." 

The  road  made  a  sharp  bend  just  beyond. 
They  turned  it  and  he  called  her  attention  to 
an  old  and  long-deserted  house  which  they 
were  approaching.  It  was  set  well  back  from 
the  highway.  "  I  meant  to  have  pointed  it 
out  when  we  went  by  before,  but  it  slipped  my 
attention." 

At  the  broken  gate  of  the  white  picket  fence 
he  paused.  "  Let  us  go  up  and  look  in  at  the 
windows." 

"  We  will  get  home  so  late,"  she  demurred. 

"  No,  no,"  he  assured  her,  impatiently,  push- 
ing her  in  ahead  of  him. 

The  long  brick  walk  was  sunken  in  spots. 
She  clung  to  his  arm.  "  I  may  be  mistaken," 
she  said,  half-jesting,  half-fearful,  "  but  it  seems 
to  me  this  has  the  air  of  a  place  where  ghosts 
hang  out." 

"  Hush,  my  dear,"  he  whispered.  "  I  have 
an  idea  we  are  being  followed.  I  didn't  like 
the  looks  of  those  fellows  v/hen  I  refused  to 
play,  nor  the  glances  cast  on  you  when  you 
took  out  your  watch.  It  may  have  been 
imagination,  but  when  you  called  my  attention 
to  our  shadows  down  the  gully,  I  thought  I 
saw  the  shadows  of  two  other  persons  further 
back.  My  cane  is  a  mere  stick,  and  I  haven't 
a  revolver  with  me."  He  took  off  his  glasses 
and  put  them  in  their  case. 


The  Washingtonians  139 

"  Why  do  you  take  them  off? "  she  whis- 
pered. 

"  I  don't  want  them  smashed  on  my  nose 
if  it  comes  to  a  fight.  Look  at  your  watch 
and  see  what  time  it  is.  I  can't  see  without 
my  glasses.  We  will  wait  here  half  an  hour, 
and  then  if  we  hear  or  see  nothing  suspicious, 
we  will  go  on.  Sit  up  here  on  the  railing  of 
the  porch." 

"  What  if  they  should  turn  in  here  ? "  she 
asked. 

"  They  would  not  be  apt  to  do  so.  They 
would  think  we  went  straight  on."  He  walked 
over  and  looked  in  the  windows  of  the  house. 
The  winter  moon  shone  in  on  the  bare  floor. 
"  Look,  Virginia,  is  there  not  something  terrible 
about  a  deserted  home?  The  rooms  are  filled 
with  ghosts.  Think  of  the  guests  that  must 
have  made  merry  once  in  these  great  parlours." 

He  went  back  and  leant  against  the  rail 
beside  her. 

She  trembled  and  clung  to  him.  "  I  am 
afraid,"  she  whispered. 

"  I  love  you,"  he  said,  "  I  love  you."  He 
kissed  her  with  all  the  hunger  of  love  denied 
for  years. 

Her  tears  flowed  beneath  that  long  caress. 
She  did  not  wish  him  to  kiss  her ;  she  loved 
hopelessly  some  one  else,  but  she  was  power- 
less in  his  embrace,  and  it  seemed  to  her  that 
his  kiss  drew  forth  her  very  life,  so  that  she 


140  The  Washingtonians 

felt  a  violent  pain  in  her  heart,  and  she  strug- 
gled to  push  her  helpless  little  hands  against 
his  breast.  At  last  he  raised  his  head  and 
looked  at  her  and  saw  that  she  was  crying. 
He  gathered  her  again  close  to  him,  and  she 
shook  with  sobs,  silent  and  convulsive. 

She  was  startled  from  her  tears,  he  from  his 
deep  concern,  by  hearing  a  noise  within  the 
house.  At  the  end  of  the  long  parlours  an 
inside  door  was  opened  and  as  instantly  closed. 
But  there  had  been  a  gleam  of  orange  light 
from  the  room  beyond,  and  they  had  caught  a 
glimpse  of  an  old  gray-haired  negro.  For 
several  moments  they  were  silent  in  amaze- 
ment, staring  into  the  house  which  once  more 
gave  the  appearance  of  being  wholly  deserted. 

"  They  are  runaway  slaves  in  hiding,"  he 
said.  "  I  wonder  if  they  heard  us  and  we 
frightened  them." 

"  No,"  said  Virginia,  "  if  they  had  been 
frightened  they  would  have  put  out  the  light 
at  once  and  hidden.  May  I  'borrow  your 
handkerchief,  David  ?  I  gave  mine  to  the 
gypsy  who  told  my  fortune." 

"  You  must  never  cry  again,  dearest,"  he 
said,  tenderly. 

They  left  the  place  with  scarcely  a  thought 
for  the  reason  which  had  made  Prentiss  enter 
it.  His  kiss  had  done  away  with  time.  Any 
fear  of  the  gypsies  seemed  an  emotion  long- 
spent  to  them  both.  If  his  apprehensions  had 


The  Washingtonians  141 

not  been  groundless  the  men  must  have  re- 
turned to  the  camp  discouraged,  for  they 
neither  heard  nor  caught  sight  of  them  the 
rest  of  the  way  home. 

The  two  walked  on  in  silence.  His  nature 
was  hushed  and  awed.  Her  tears  had  quelled 
his  ardour,  but  he  was  conscious  of  an  exalta- 
tion strangely  deep  and  quiet. 

"  Look  at  the  stars,  my  darling,"  he  said, 
"  see  how  like  bright  gold  they  are.  They 
seem  to  be  streaming  down  upon  us." 

She  raised  her  head,  and  saw  them  twinkling 
through  a  mist  of  tears.  How  full  of  grief  was 
she  !  She  knew  that  La  Cerf  did  not  love  her, 
but  she  had  dreamed  in  her  innocent  heart  of 
a  life  of  devotion  to  the  memory  of  her  first 
and  only  love.  Why  had  David  kissed  her  ? 
Twice  she  opened  her  lips  to  tell  him  she 
cared  nothing  for  him,  but  her  courage  failed 
her.  She  could  not  destroy  his  happiness. 

Her  varied  emotions  began  to  be  succeeded 
by  weariness.  His  prolonged  silence  irritated 
her. 

"  What  are  you  thinking  of?  "  she  asked. 

"  I  was  thinking  of  my  great  unworthiness," 
he  answered.  "  I  had  a  sudden  fear  that  my 
happiness  could  not  last.  It  is  so  much  more 
than  I  deserve."  He  turned  and  put  his  arms 
around  her.  "  Oh,  comfort  me,  Virginia,"  he 
cried,  "  for  I  thought  I  should  die  at  the 
thought ! " 


Chapter  XI 

/CHRISTMAS  morning  dawned  on  a 
V_>1  white  world. 

Virginia  had  risen  before  five  and  gone  to 
six  o'clock  communion  at  the  chapel  in  the 
old-fashioned  churchyard  a  mile  away.  She 
had  not  told  Prentiss  of  her  intention  for  fear 
he  would  go  with  her,  and  she  wished  to  be 
alone.  As  she  started  down  the  dark  road  she 
noticed  ahead  of  her  in  the  east  one  brilliant, 
trembling  star  that  hung  low  and  large  in  the 
sky,  and  thought  it  might  well  be  the  very  one 
the  wise  men  followed.  It  seemed  like  mid- 
night, but  she  remembered  the  old  saying  that 
it  was  always  darkest  just  before  dawn,  and  she 
had,  moreover,  entire  faith  that  nothing  evil 
could  befall  this  holy  day.  She  clung  to  her 
childhood  fancy  that  all  nature  was  conscious 
of  what  had  befallen  the  world  in  the  birth  of 
its  Lord.  The  soft  chill  breeze  that  blew 
against  her  whispered  of  it,  the  nodding  tree- 
tops  were  full  of  meaning,  and  the  bright  stars 
proclaimed  it  joyfully. 

Virginia  lifted  her  heart  in  prayer  as  she 
hastened  on.  Since  the  announcement  of  her 
142 


The  Washingtonians  143 

engagement  to  the  family,  two  days  after 
her  visit  to  the  gypsy  camp  with  David,  she 
had  been  very  unhappy,  but  now  she  prayed 
for  grace  to  conquer  this  grief  and  to  be  a  good 
wife  to  him.  Four  days  had  passed  since  she 
had  taken  on  this  new  relation,  and  the  time 
seemed  as  many  months.  But  in  some  ways 
it  had  been  easier  than  she  could  have  thought. 
The  consciousness  that  she  did  not  love  David 
had  made  her  unselfish  and  tender  toward  him, 
and  by  a  strange  contradiction  she  had  found 
a  subtle  comfort  in  the  loving  embraces  and 
kisses  that  had  been  forced  upon  her.  The 
unwelcome  lover  was  still  the  friend  to  whom 
she  involuntarily  turned.  There  were  times 
when  she  could  scarcely  refrain  from  putting 
her  face,  weeping,  on  his  shoulder  and  begging 
him  to  return  La  Cerf  to  her.  Then  she 
would  remember  with  shame  that  the  Indian 
cared  nothing  for  her,  and  pride  would  save 
her  from  speaking.  This  morning  she  had 
risen  with  the  resolve  to  put  all  selfish  desires 
away  and  her  spirits  were  lighter  than  they  had 
been  for  weeks.  She  almost  danced  along  the 
road,  such  blitheness  did  she  feel,  and  she  sang 
snatches  of  hymns  for  the  day. 

At  last  she  reached  the  churchyard  and 
entered  it.  The  light  from  the  open  door 
of  the  chapel  stretched  out  across  the  snow. 
All  around  her  were  the  blessed  dead,  although 
they  were  not  really  there,  she  corrected  her- 


144  The  Washingtonians 

self,  but  in  heaven.  In  the  vestibule  she 
stopped  to  exchange  greetings  with  their  near- 
est neighbours,  who  were  surprised  to  find  she 
had  come  alone  and  offered  to  drive  her  home 
after  the  service.  But  she  assured  them  the 
sun  would  then  be  up  and  she  would  enjoy 
the  walk  home. 

The  chapel  was  decorated  in  holly  wreaths 
and  green  boughs.  Tall  scarlet  candles  were 
burning  on  the  altar.  The  organist  came  out 
in  his  white  vestments  and  played  a  prelude. 
Virginia  knelt  in  her  pew  and  prayed  earnestly, 
struggling  to  put  away  the  image  of  La  Cerf 
that  was  forming  in  her  mind.  Here  in  the 
church  itself  temptation  rose  as  memory  re- 
called his  devotion  to  the  Christian  religion. 
But  strength  came  to  her  with  prayer,  and  when 
she  went  up  to  the  altar  to  kneel  and  partake 
of  the  sacred  bread  and  wine  it  was  with  a 
heart  free  of  all  selfishness. 

The  east  was  bright  when  she  came  out. 
Long  light  clouds  were  tinged  with  rose,  and 
even  as  she  looked  up  it  seemed  to  her  that 
the  last  stars  faded  into  the  paling  blue. 
The  snow  that  had  appeared  so  deep  and 
white  in  the  night  was  a  veil  the  sun  would 
soon  melt. 

She  watched  the  first  rays  brighten  the  tree- 
tops  and  distant  hills,  all  unwitting  how  the 
same  glory  touched  her  own  sweet  face  to 
beauty. 


The  Washingtonians  145 

The  family  were  sitting  down  to  breakfast 
when  she  came  in. 

"  Merry  Christmas,"  she  cried,  and  begin- 
ning with  Portia  went  around  the  circle  and 
kissed  them  all,  pausing  when  she  came  to 
Prentiss,  but  only  a  moment,  before  she  bent 
and  touched  her  lips  to  his  cheek. 

"  Well  done,  Virginia,"  laughed  Mrs.  Mat- 
thews, "  that  was  quite  wifely.  Take  off  your 
things  and  sit  down  so  we  can  begin  to  unwrap 
our  Christmas  gifts."  She  was  in  the  gayest 
spirits.  Only  yesterday,  an  editorial  in  Green- 
leaf's  happiest  style,  setting  forth  her  father's 
peculiar  fitness  for  the  Presidency  during  the 
present  troublous  times,  had  appeared  in 
the  Chronicle.  It  had  already  excited  wide- 
spread attention  and  important  Comment.  She 
had  forgotten  her  husband's  irritation  at  her 
management  of  Greenleaf,  and  it  was  not  in  his 
heart  to  hold  anything  against  her  long.  Her 
delight  and  triumph  in  her  success  filled  him 
with  concern  for  the  future  should  her  father 
fail  to  be  endorsed  by  the  Ohio  State  conven- 
tion. Any  annoyance  of  the  present  could  not 
but  be  tempered  by  this  solicitude. 

The  merry  unwrapping  of  gifts  took  place 
before  the  breakfast  was  served. 

Secretary  West  was  as  much  surprised  by 
his  slippers  as  though  Virginia  had  never 
worked  on  them  before  him.  Prentiss  gave 
him  a  manuscript  copy  of  his  poems. 


146  The  Washingtonians 

"  I  shouldn't  dare  give  them  to  any  one 
else,"  explained  the  young  man,  "  but  I  knew 
you  wouldn't  be  affected  by  the  fact  that  I 
can't  find  a  publisher  for  them  unless  I  put 
up  the  money."  He  had  copied  them  out 
with  great  pains. 

"  I  could  have  wished  nothing  better, 
David,"  answered  the  Secretary,  greatly  pleased. 
"  I  shall  prize  this  volume  more  than  any 
one  that  is  printed  in  the  future." 

"  I  was  going  to  give  you  something, 
general,"  Prentiss  went  on,  "  that  you  would 
have  cared  for  above  anything  else.  It  was 
a  picture  of  Portia  taken  when  she  was  a  girl. 
You  remember,  Portia  ?  I  believe  it  was  one 
you  had  never  seen,  Mr.  Matthews,  and  I 
was  going  to  get  it  coloured  and  put  in  a  little 
frame  for  you.  But  it  disappeared,  where,  I 
don't  know.  So  that  is  the  reason  I  had  to 
give  you  cigars." 

Mrs.  Matthews's  gifts  were  of  a  practical 
nature.  To  the  three  men  she  gave  all  alike, 
a  dozen  fine  linen  shirts  and  handkerchiefs 
with  their  monograms,  the  entire  outfit  having 
been  made  to  order  by  the  nuns  of  the  George- 
town Convent.  Virginia's  present  was  a  set 
of  napkins  and  damask  table-cloth. 

"  There  was  not  time  to  get  those  embroi- 
dered," explained  Mrs.  Matthews,  "  but  we 
will  take  them  over  to  the  nuns  some  day 
and  you  shall  select  your  own  style  of  mono- 


The  Washingtonians  147 

gram.  I  think  the  sisters  do  the  most  exquis- 
ite needlework  in  the  world.  Then  you  will 
have  the  first  thing  for  your  linen-chest.  Your 
Cousin  Tom's  Christmas  remembrance  to  you 
is  to  be  put  in  the  bank  until  the  trousseau  is 
needed." 

"  Don't  hurry  the  child  so,"  put  in  Matthews, 
kindly,  as  he  noted  her  confusion.  "  She's 
scarcely  engaged  yet.  And  you  needn't  think 
that  what's  in 'the  bank  is  my  only  Christmas 
gift  to  you,  Virginia.  Some  of  it  is  in  that 
envelope  beside  your  napkin." 

There  was  a  pearl  pin  from  her  uncle  and 
a  tiny  box  addressed  to  her  in  David's  hand- 
writing. She  opened  the  latter  nervously.  It 
contained  a  turquoise  ring. 

"  You  spoke  of  a  blue  stone,  Virginia,"  he 
said,  "  and  that  was  how  I  knew  what  to  get." 

She  smiled  back  into  his  happy  face. 

"  Are  we  ever  going  to  have  our  coffee  ? " 
asked  Matthews. 

"  I've  been  endeavouring  to  say  grace  for 
some  moments,"  remarked  the  Secretary. 

Prentiss  began  to  drum  a  tune  on  the  table 
with  both  hands,  and  flinging  back  his  head 
burst  into  song. 


"  f  While  shepherds  watched  their  flocks  by  night, 

All  seated  on  the  ground, 
The  angel  of  the  Lord  came  down, 
And  glory  shone  around. 


148  The  Washingtonians 

"  '  Fear  not  !   said  he,  for  mighty  dread 

Had  seized  their  troubled  mind  —  '  " 

"  Well,  that's  the  first  time  I  ever  had  the 
grace  sung  at  my  table,"  said  the  Secretary. 
He  smiled  indulgently. 

"  When  did  you  adopt  this  quaint  fashion, 
David  ?  "  asked  Mrs.  Matthews.  "  I  suppose 
the  next  time  I  give  a  dinner-party  you  will 
open  the  festivities  by  starting  up  with  the 
tune,  f  Oh,  why  should  the  spirit  of  mortal  be 
proud  ! ' ' 

"  That  was  the  hymn  we  sang  at  commu- 
nion this  morning,  1  mean  '  While  shepherds 
watched  their  flocks,'  "  volunteered  Virginia. 
"  That  and  c  Once  in  Royal  David's  City.'  " 

"  The  question  in  my  mind  is  not  one  of 
grace  but  of  abundance,"  said  Matthews  ;  "  are 
we  ever  going  to  eat  ?  Prentiss,  these  women 
are  never  going  to  stop  talking  and  give  me  a 
chance  to  see  if  my  cigars  are  good." 

"Father,"  said  Mrs.  Matthews,  "  if  you  will 
only  say  grace  soon  so  I  can  pour  the  coffee, 
these  two  men  won't  be  in  a  temper  at  not 
getting  their  morning  smoke." 

"  My  dear,"  he  retorted,  with  dignity,  "  I 
have  been  endeavouring  to  do  so  for  the  last 
half-hour." 

When  the  meal  was  finished  the  expectant 
servants  were  called  in.  Their  gifts,  which 
had  been  piled  in  readiness  on  a  side  table, 


The  Washingtonians  149 

were  distributed  by  General  Matthews  and 
Prentiss.  Mrs.  Matthews  and  Virginia  pushed 
the  table  out  of  the  way  and  started  one  of  the 
pickaninnies,  black  as  the  ace  of  spades,  with 
her  wool  standing  out  in  a  dozen  or  more 
beribboned  braids,  to  dancing. 

Secretary  West  alone  took  no  part  in  the 
servants'  enjoyment  and  went  to  the  library. 
He  felt  neither  kindness  nor  unkindness  to- 
ward these  immediate  humble  representatives 
of  the  race  he  had  so  splendidly  championed. 
Their  demonstrative  joy  offended  him,  although 
he  felt  Portia  was  right  to  allow  them  to  come 
in  on  Christmas.  But  he  dismissed  the  annoy- 
ing incident  from  his  mind  and  became  obliv- 
ious to  the  sounds  of  glee  that  pervaded  the 
house.  He  had  nearly  an  hour  before  it  was 
time  to  start  for  church,  and  so  he  seated  him- 
self at  the  writing-table  to  outlin  a  pamphlet 
on  the  subject  of  negro  suffr?  .je.  Senator 
Chadwick  had  called  on  him  several  days 
before  to  urge  upon  him  the  /isdom  of  not 
offending  any  of  his  friends  by  making  public 
his  views  in  regard  to  the  enfranchisement  of 
the  negro. 

"  It  is  well  to  be  discreet,  Mr.  West,"  he 
had  argued,  "  and  as  the  matter  will  not  come 
up  anyway  until  after  the  war  is  ended,  there 
is  no  call  upon  your  conscience  needlessly  to 
offend  those  friends  who  do  not  see  the  matter 
in  the  same  light." 


150  The  Washingtonlans 

Unfortunately  Chadwick  had  put  his  case  in 
the  worst  light.  He  had '  touched  at  once 
upon  West's  aggressive  virtue. 

"  I  have  nothing  to  conceal,"  he  had  an- 
swered, haughtily.  "  If  the  people  nominate 
me  it  will  not  be  without  my  having  shown 
them  entire  frankness  in  regard  to  the  future 
policy  I  shall  maintain  if  I  am  elected." 

The  Senator  had  left  much  depressed.  He 
perceived  that  West  could  not  look  upon 
himself  as  under  the  direction  of  any  one  and 
that  he  would  not  work  with  his  committee. 
Above  all  he  found  it  difficult  to  inculcate  in 
him  any  reasonable  fears.  The  Secretary  was 
entirely  optimistic  and  was  confident  that  all 
would  be  for  the  best.  He  mingled  too  little 
with  public  men  to  gain  astuteness.  But  more 
clearly  perhaps  than  any  of  his  contemporaries 
did  he  see  that  the  war  would  result  in  the 
political  freedom  of  the  negro. 

He  began  his  outline  of  the  system  of  negro 
suffrage  that  his  views  might  be  well  known 
over  the  country  as  early  in  his  campaign  as 
possible.  He  was  conscious  of  the  repulsion 
the  idea  excited  even  in  himself,  but  because 
of  this  personal  element  he  forced  himself  to 
advocate  it  the  more  vigorously.  His  mind 
could  conceive  of  no  just  reason  why  the  negro 
should  not  be  admitted  to  equal  legal  rights 
with  the  white  race.  If  political  freedom  were 
not  accorded  the  blacks,  they  would  still  be 


The  Washingtonians  151 

enslaved  and  the  terrible  sacrifice  of  life  the 
war  had  occasioned  would  be  in  vain. 

His  mind  ran  along  the  lines  of  this  argu- 
ment as  he  and  his  daughter  and  son-in-law 
drove  into  the  city  to  church.  He  framed  it 
so  completely  mentally  that  it  would  require 
only  the  mechanical  writing  when  he  returned 
home  that  afternoon. 

On  reaching  the  church,  he  went  directly  in 
without  bowing  to  any  one,  having  a  deeply 
rooted  aversion  to  any  social  relations  within 
the  precincts  of  the  church.  He  maintained 
that  it  was  presumptuous  for  any  one  to  greet 
him  and  welcome  him  into  his  own  church  or  to 
inquire  why  he  had  missed  a  particular  service. 
It  was  at  church  more  than  in  any  other  place 
that  he  desired  spiritual  aloofness,  and  he  held 
to  these  views  with  dignified  propriety  regard- 
less of  the  fact  that  he  gave  only  the  impres- 
sion of  pharisaicalness  and  hauteur.  He  was 
always  a  little  depressed  during  the  service, 
for  the  familiar  prayers  had  been  read  on  so 
many  sacred  occasions  now  past  and  gone 
from  his  life  that  the  solemn  and  beautiful 
phrases  sounded  the  depths  of  memory.  These 
hours  were  steeped  in  a  sadness  so  tender  that 
they  had  none  of  the  bitterness  of  grief  but 
rather  a  consoling  peace.  It  would  have  been 
difBcult  even  for  Portia  to  have  understood 
these  moods,  for  her  father  was  a  man  pos- 
sessed of  singularly  few  affections,  and  she 


152,  The  Washingtonians 

would  have  traced  them  to  the  natural  melan- 
choly common  to  all.  But  she  was  always 
profoundly  moved  by  the  expression,  at  once 
thoughtful  and  exalted,  even  tinged  by  a 
certain  sweetness,  that  his  face  wore. 

After  the  service  they  drove  to  the  hospital 
to  leave  the  Christmas  hamper  Mrs.  Mat- 
thews had  packed  for  the  soldiers,  and  then 
around  the  city  to  give  her  remembrances  to 
her  friends. 

Prentiss  and  Virginia  were  left  alone  at 
home.  When  the  servants  were  sent  away 
with  their  gifts  he  had  gone  into  the  drawing- 
room  to  read,  hoping  she  would  slip  away 
from  the  others  and  follow  him.  He  waited 
nearly  half  an  hour.  He  heard  the  rest  of 
the  family  start  for  church,  and  still  she  did 
not  come.  He  sat  down  impatiently  at  the 
piano  and  began  to  play.  And  at  last  she 
came. 

"  How  long  you  were  !  "  he  cried.  "  I 
thought  you  were  never  coming." 

"  I  had  to  hunt  up  my  kitten  and  tie  a  new 
red  ribbon  on  her  for  Christmas,"  she  an- 
swered. 

He  put  out  his  arm  and  drew  her  to  him  as 
he  sat  on  the  piano  stool. 

"  Did  Portia  say  my  girl  was  wifely, 
precious?  Did  she?"  he  asked,  teasing  her 
lovingly. 

She  pushed  her  hands  against  his  breast  to 


The  Washingtonians  153 

hold  herself  away  from  him,  and  regarded  him 
so  strangely  that  he  was  startled. 

"  Has  anything  happened  ?  " 

She  shook  her  head. 

"  Don't  you  like  your  ring,  dear  ? "  he 
asked,  anxiously.  "  I  see  you  haven't  it  on. 
Is  that  it?  I  will  get  you  another."  He  was 
a  little  hurt. 

"  Were  you  ever  in  love  with  Portia  ?  "  she 
asked. 

He  was  startled.  "  It  was  an  infatuation," 
he  said,  at  last,  slowly.  "  I  never  loved  her." 

"  Then  why  did  you  keep  her  picture  all 
these  years  ?  Did  you  ever  ask  her  to  marry 
you  ?  " 

His  face  flushed.  "  Why,  yes,  I  believe  I 
did.  But  what  has  that  to  do  with  us  ?  It 
was  the  foolish  fancy  of  a  young  man  for  a 
beautiful  woman  to  whom  he  was  not  in  the 
least  suited." 

"  But  you  asked  her  to  marry  you,"  she 
persisted.  "If  she  had  said  yes  you  would 
have  married  her.  She  would  have  been  your 
wife  now.  I  shall  always  think  of  that.  If 
she  —  " 

"  Virginia,"  he  interrupted,  "  who  has  been 
talking  to  you  ?  Why  do  you  draw  yourself 
away  ?  "  He  let  her  go,  and  sat  watching  her 
helplessly. 

She  leant  against  the  piano,  half  turned 
from  him.  Where  had  the  peace  of  the 


1 54  The  Washingtonians 

early  morning  gone  ?  What  was  this  terrible 
reaction  which  had  set  in  and  filled  her  with 
wild  and  chaotic  emotion  ?  She  could  no 
longer  remember  her  loving  resolutions  to 
make  David  happy.  She  was  conscious  only 
of  anger  with  him  intensified  by  her  own  hu- 
miliation. Her  sacrifice  had  been  made  from 
pity  for  his  great  love,  and  now  she  discovered 
that  he  had  no  real  need  for  this  compassion. 
He  had  loved  before,  and  what  could  he  bring 
her  but  the  dregs  of  a  wasted  affection  ?  He 
must  have  loved  Portia  as  she  loved  La 
Cerf,  a  hopeless  passion  given  once  and  for 
always.  A  mad  hope  that  she  might  regain 
her  freedom  surged  in  her  heart.  Yet  why 
this  pain,  instead  of  relief,  at  the  possibility  ? 

"You  should  have  told  me.  I  would  —  " 
she  paused,  conscience  stricken.  She  had  told 
him  nothing.  "  I  remember  that  evening 
when  you  were  showing  us  your  photographs 
in  the  library  that  you  had  then  that  picture 
of  Portia.  I  remember  now  your  expression 
when  you  looked  at  it.  You  will  never  love 
me  as  you  loved  her." 

"  No,  I  never  shall,"  he  answered,  "  for  I 
never  loved  her  really.  It  was  the  mad  pas- 
sion of  a  foolish  boy." 

She  put  her  hands  over  her  face  and  began 
to  sob  violently.  He  could  talk  of  the  mad 
passion  of  a  foolish  boy,  but  he  could  not 
deceive  her,  for  she,  too,  knew  what  such  love 


The  Washingtonians  155 

meant.  And  after  all  he  was  bringing  to  her 
only  what  she  gave  him.  She  had  every  right 
to  her  freedom  ;  she  need  no  longer  fear  to 
wound  his  heart.  It  was  not  hers  any  more 
than  her  heart  was  his. 

"  My  darling,"  he  said,  gently,  "  my  life  is 
wrapped  up  in  you.  You  seem  a  very  spirit 
to  me.  There  is  no  comparison  between  the 
love  I  have  for  you  and  the  infatuation  I  had 
for  Portia.  The  one  is  all  sweetness  and 
peace.  When  with  you  I  often  feel  as  if  we 
were  children  again.  And  you,  you  are  like 
a  little  child  to  me  in  some  ways.  Oh,  Vir- 
ginia, how  can  words  express  my  love  !  Don't 
turn  from  me  !  Don't  turn  from  me  !  " 

"  I  don't  want  you  to  love  me  as  if  I  were 
a  child,"  she  cried.  "  I  do  not  want  calm 
affection.  I  want  you  to  love  me  as  a  woman, 
passionately,  as  you  did  Portia." 

"  My  poor  child  !  "  he  exclaimed,  distressed 
beyond  measure. 

"  For  I  know  what  real  love  should  be,"  she 
went  on,  "I  —  I,  too,  have  loved  as  you  loved 
her." 

He  grew  pale. 

"  I  cared  for  Mr.  La  Cerf,"  she  cried,  weep- 
ing afresh. 

He  sat  staring  at  her,  dumb  in  his  humilia- 
tion. La  Cerf  of  all  men!  But  for  his  pain 
he  could  have  laughed.  She,  Virginia,  his 
flower,  his  darling  child  whom  he  had  tutored, 


156  The  Washingtonians 

in  love  with  such  a  man  !  He  recalled  the 
Indian's  boasted  flirtations  with  women  too 
numberless  to  mention.  La  Cerf  had  shown 
him  notes  and  gifts  from  infatuated  girls.  In 
his  room  he  had  noted  with  disgust  their 
photographs,  and  thought  of  them  with  scorn. 
He  had  said  to  himself  that  they  were  lower 
than  the  poor  women  in  the  streets.  As  he 
looked  dully  at  Virginia  he  wondered  if  this 
were  his  punishment  for  ever  daring  to  judge 
and  despise  any  one.  Must  he  learn  through 
her  that  the  women  he  had  visited  with  such 
contempt  were  after  all  only  foolish  as  she  and 
not  inherently  vicious  ?  Had  she  as  well  as 
those  others  written  notes  to  La  Cerf  and  given 
him  her  picture?  He  put  his  hand  over  his 
eyes,  resting  his  elbow  on  the  keyboard,  inad- 
vertently striking  the  notes  as  he  did  so. 

The  discordant  crash  startled  them  both. 
It  seemed  to  force  on  him  the  necessity  of 
speech.  He  rose. 

"  Will  you  come  and  sit  down  beside  me  on 
the  sofa,  Virginia  ?  "  he  asked,  quietly. 

She  sat  down  beside  him,  no  longer  weeping. 
He  did  not  offer  to  touch  her.  The  tragedy 
of  the  past  moments  was  gone,  but  the  quiet 
that  had  succeeded  was  more  terrible.  She 
had  wept  before  since  their  engagement,  and 
he  had  put  his  arms  about  her  and  kissed  her. 
Why  did  he  not  do  so  now  and  comfort  her  ? 
She  was  conscious  of  being  very  tired,  and  of 


The  Washingtonians  157 

having  grown  suddenly  strangely  indifferent  to 
the  fact  that  he  had  loved  Portia,  she  La  Cerf. 
She  was  not  robust,  and  the  strain  she  had 
been  under  for  the  last  month  had  told  on 
her. 

She  sat  between  Prentiss  and  the  light, 
so  that  her  face,  turned  toward  him,  was  in 
shadow,  but  a  pang  went  through  his  heart. 
She  had  risen  too  early  ;  the  walk  to  the  chapel 
had  been  too  long;  she  was  overtired.  The 
stern  resolve  had  been  in  his  mind  to  tell  her 
of  La  Cerf's  real  character,  his  irreverent  atti- 
tude toward  women,  his  lack  of  intellectual 
ability.  But  now  he  softened. 

"  Virginia,"  he  said,  "  I  want  you  to  answer 
me  this  one  question.  Who  loves  you  best, 
La  Cerf  or  I  ?  " 

He  was  once  more  the  schoolmaster  to  her, 
to  be  respected  and  feared. 

"  You,"  she  answered,  "  you."  And  then 
because  she  could  not  endure  his  cold,  grave 
eyes  fixed  on  her,  she  moved  nearer  him,  and 
bowed  her  head  on  his  breast,  striving,  uncon- 
sciously, to  recover  her  lover. 

He  did  not  draw  her  closer,  or  offer  to  kiss 
her.  There  came  to  her  the  first  feeling  of 
pride  she  had  ever  experienced  toward  him. 
She  drew  herself  away  and  rose. 

"  I  will  go  to  my  room  for  awhile." 

"  Yes,  dearest,"  he  said,  "  you  are  tired. 
Do  not  think  of  this  morning  again.  We 


158  The  Washingtonians 

must  not  ruin  our  happiness  by  indulgence  in 
any  morbid  thoughts.  Happiness  is  such  a 
frail  thing,  so  easily  destroyed.  Let  us  try  to 
be  wise.  Our  follies  are  so  heavily  punished. 
Shall  I  give  you  your  kitten  ?  It  will  be  com- 
pany for  you." 

He  picked  up  the  little  animal,  which  had 
strayed  into  the  room  some  moments  before, 
and  placed  it  in  her  arms,  then  opened  the 
door  for  her. 

She  passed  him  with  a  feeling  of  terror. 
Not  even  the  confession  of  her  love  for  an- 
other man  had  broken  their  engagement.  She 
saw  that  he  still  held  her  to  it,  even  though 
his  feeling  toward  her  had  changed  so  that  he 
no  longer  cared  to  kiss  her. 

Prentiss,  on  his  part,  was  wounded  by  her 
expression  of  fear.  He  told  himself  that  he 
must  be  sane  for  them  both  at  this  crisis,  and 
hold  to  his  belief  that  he  knew  her  heart  better 
than  she  did  herself.  He  put  on  his  hat  and 
coat  and  started  for  a  walk. 

"  I  will  not  let  you  go,  Virginia,"  he  said  to 
himself,  over  and  over  again.  "  I  cannot,  I 
cannot." 


Chapter    XII 

/•  •  AHE  day  was  drawing  to  a  close.  General 
J_  Matthews  had  remained  in  town,  but 
would  return  for  dinner.  The  Secretary  and 
his  daughter  had  driven  home  alone  after 
making  their  calls. 

She  slipped  her  hand  through  his  arm  as 
they  sat  side  by  side  on  the  back  seat  of  the 
open  carriage. 

"  Isn't  this  nice,  father  dear,"  she  said,  "we 
really  see  so  little  of  each  other." 

He  glanced  at  her  in  some  surprise.  He 
thought  they  saw  a  great  deal  of  each  other. 
It  seemed  to  him  that  Portia  always  had  him 
under  her  eye,  and  for  years  he  had  harboured 
a  suspicion,  vague  as  it  was  uncomfortable, 
that  his  daughter  tried  to  manage  him.  His 
pride  in  her  was  great,  but  she  never  set  him 
wholly  at  ease. 

"  I  hope,  my  dear,"  he  remarked,  "  that 
you  will  be  very  cautious  in  regard  to  anything 
you  say  to  your  friends  about  my  hopes  for 
the  nomination.  I  should  be  humiliated  to 
think  that  any  personal  influence  had  been 
brought  to  bear  in  case  I  received  it.  I  prefer 

'59 


160  The  Washingtonians 

to  be  judged  wholly  on  my  merits  as  a  public 
man." 

She  glanced  at  him  quickly. 

"  For  instance,"  he  continued,  "  I  derive 
more  genuine  happiness  from  the  fact  that  the 
Chronicle  has  seen  fit  to  change  its  policy 
toward  me  because  it  has  become  convinced  of 
my  public  worth,  than  if  Greenleaf  had  been  my 
friend,  and  had  done  so  for  personal  reasons." 

"  I  should  think  that  such  a  sudden  change 
might  be  due  to  some  personal  influence,"  she 
answered.  "  The  fact  still  holds  good  that 
your  public  worth,  as  you  put  it,  was  as  well 
established  a  few  weeks  ago  as  now,  and  the 
Chronicle  then  was  your  enemy.  I  think  it  is 
a  stronger  and  more  dignified  attitude  in  a  man 
to  recognise  that  a  political  campaign  cannot 
be  run  on  absolutely  ideal  lines,  and  that  the 
end  must  sometimes  justify  the  means,  than  it 
is  for  him  to  put  on  airs,  and  pretend  not  to 
understand  what  his  subordinates  are  doing. 
I  haven't  the  least  doubt  that  personal  influ- 
ence was  brought  to  bear  upon  Greenleaf  in 
this  matter.  I  met  him  once,  and  he  did  not 
impress  me  as  an  Aristides." 

The  Secretary  was  deeply  wounded.  "  Por- 
tia," he  said,  "  I  have  had  much  experience  in 
the  world,  and  I  have  loved  virtue.  It  has 
never  been  to  my  disadvantage,  and  now,  at 
my  age,  after  a  life  devoted  to  public  service, 
I  retain  my  self-respect." 


The  Washingtonians  161 

"  I  know,"  she  said,  "  but  do  you  consider 
the  exercise  of  common  sense  incompatible 
with  self-respect  ?  "  She  was  still  haunted  by 
the  fear  that  had  come  to  her  the  night  of 
the  theatre,  when  she  had  comprehended  fully 
for  the  first  time  the  President's  popularity 
with  the  people.  The  attitude  of  the  maimed 
soldier  who  had  visited  him  in  his  box  was 
significant  of  the  class  he  represented. 

"  I  think,"  she  continued,  "  that  that  in- 
junction we  are  all  taught  from  our  youth 
upwards,  '  to  be  in  the  world  but  not  of  it,' 
excuses  many  a  harebrained  enthusiast  to  him- 
self for  deliberately  refusing  to  accept  the 
advice  of  wise  and  experienced  people.  For 
myself  I  love  worldliness  when  it  is  of  the 
better  kind  and  tends  toward  sanity." 

"  I  sometimes  think  that  you  visit  me  with 
scorn,"  he  answered.  "  I  am  deeply  hurt, 
Portia." 

"  You  know  how  I  admire  and  love  you," 
she  cried ;  "  my  only  wish  is  that  you  might  be 
wiser  for  your  own  sake,  for  both  our  sakes. 
Why  is  it  necessary  for  you  to  issue  that  paper 
on  the  political  freedom  of  the  negro  at  this 
particular  time  ?  You  had  not  intended  to  do 
so  until  you  were  advised  not  to.  Be  careful 
that  you  do  not  confound  obstinacy  with  public 
virtue.  It  hurts  me  to  speak  so  to  you,  but  I 
must  say  what  I  think  in  regard  to  so  vital 
a  matter." 


1 62  The  Washingtonians 

He  drew  a  long  sigh  and  looked  away  from 
her  over  the  pleasant  landscape.  He  had  been 
so  serene  and  happy  until  this  last  half-hour. 
Did  his  daughter  know  him  so  little  that  she 
did  not  comprehend  he  felt  in  honour  bound  to 
make  his  views  known  if  failing  to  do  so 
would  in  any  way  affect  his  nomination  ? 

"If  you  believe  that  you  are  best  fitted  to 
bring  order  out  of  chaos,  and  that  you  can 
bring  the  war  to  a  speedy  end,  then  it  is  your 
duty  to  do  all  that  is  in  your  power  to  bring 
about  your  election.  As  I  have  said  before, 
father  dear,  the  wisdom  of  the  serpent  has  its 
place  with  the  harmlessness  of  the  dove." 

"  I  do  not  think  you  remember  that  I  am 
your  father,"  he  said.  "  Even  in  a  wife,  Portia, 
I  could  not  endure  calmly  what  you  have 
said  to  me,  and  I  can  do  so  much  less  in  a 
daughter." 

"  I  had  hoped  the  world  had  advanced  be- 
yond such  a  sentimental  attitude.  I  certainly 
hope,  now  that  I  have  reached  a  maturity  of 
some  years'  duration,  that  our  affection  and 
admiration  for  each  other  is  based  on  our 
respective  characters  and  not  on  the  mere  tie 
of  blood."  She  smiled.  "  But  you  are  just 
like  all  men.  Your  sex  cannot  bear  a  word  of 
reproof  from  a  woman  and  your  gallantry  alone 
makes  it  possible  for  you  even  to  listen  to  her 
advice.  We  never  suppose  you  heed  it.  I 
have  given  up  ever  saying  anything  to  Tom, 


The  Washingtonians  163 

although  the  glare  he  gives  me  when  I  do 
always  rather  tempts  me  to  draw  him  on." 

"  I  have  no  doubt  that  I  hold  old-fashioned 
views,"  answered  the  Secretary,  stiffly. 

She  patted  his  arm  affectionately.  "  You  do, 
dear,"  she  retorted,  laughing,  "  never  doubt  it." 

They  had  little  to  say  to  each  other  the  rest 
of  the  way  home.  Her  busy  mind  was  already 
wondering  if  the  issuing  of  his  proposed  paper 
on  the  negro  question  could  not  be  turned  to  his 
advantage  by  a  clever  editorial  from  Greenleaf  's 
ready  pen.  Although  she  sometimes  spoke 
with  intensity  she  never  kept  the  least  feeling 
against  her  antagonist  in  an  argument.  She 
felt  renewed  love  and  respect  for  this  very  atti- 
tude her  father  took,  even  if  she  did  deplore  it 
for  political  reasons.  She  would  have  been 
utterly  amazed  could  she  have  divined  the 
resentment  he  felt  toward  her  beneath  his 
mask  of  pride. 

She  spent  the  remainder  of  the  afternoon  in 
her  room  acknowledging  the  gifts  that  had 
been  sent  her.  Her  systematic  nature  disliked 
to  have  any  duties  drag  over  into  the  next  day. 
She  took  a  real  pleasure  in  the  writing  and 
sealing  of  the  notes.  The  sense  of  accomplish- 
ment in  the  slightest  way  brought  its  modicum 
of  happiness.  Those  presents  which  she  did 
not  fancy  she  wrapped  up  carefully  in  tissue- 
paper  and  laid  away  in  a  drawer  to  be  given  to 
others  by  herself  in  time.  She  had  received 


164  The  Washingtonians 

so  much  this  year  that  when  she  finished  her 
labour  she  was  tired  and  not  sure  that  she  par- 
ticularly cared  for  Christmas.  An  exquisite 
handkerchief  sent  her  from  abroad  she  enclosed 
again  in  its  box  with  her  own  card,  and  directed 
it  to  a  friend  in  the  West  whose  husband  was  a 
man  of  local  political  prominence.  Then  she 
dressed  herself  for  dinner.  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Haas  and  La  Cerf  were  to  be  the  only  guests. 
With  the  exception  of  one  or  two  intimate 
friends,  the  Secretary  did  not  care  to  have  any 
one  outside  the  family  at  his  Christmas  table. 
He  loved  the  idea  of  a  hearty  old-fashioned 
dinner  such  as  he  used  to  have  in  the  country 
when  a  boy.  Portia  took  care  they  should 
have  cider  instead  of  wine  on  this  occasion,  and 
that  the  dessert  should  consist  of  fried  cakes, 
hickory  nuts,  and  mince  pie. 

She  went  down  the  stairs  regretting  that 
there  were  not  more  guests  to  see  how  attract- 
ive the  house  looked  in  its  Christmas  greens. 
Virginia  and  the  old  negro  butler  had  wound 
fir  ropes  down  either  balustrade  of  the  stair- 
way, and  about  the  lamps  on  the  newel-posts. 
The  steel-engravings  on  the  walls  had  been 
brightened  by  holly  twined  around  their  gold 
frames.  In  the  panel  windows  on  either  side 
of  the  front  door  wreaths  were  hung  by  scarlet 
ribbons.  The  sunset  light  shone  against  the 
gothic-like  panes,  and  filled  the  hall  with  a 
radiant  glory. 


The  Washingtonians  165 

"  The  sunset  will  be  lovely,"  she  said  to 
herself,  and  thought  she  would  sit  down  at 
one  of  the  windows  to  watch  it. 

As  she  put  the  package  containing  the 
handkerchief  on  the  table,  she  noticed  that 
some  other  packages  and  letters  had  also  been 
put  out  in  readiness  for  the  morning's  mail. 
There  was  a  long,  bulky  envelope  addressed 
in  her  father's  hand  to  a  leading  Ohio  news- 
paper. She  knew  it  to  be  the  article  on  negro 
suffrage.  It  was  in  her  power  to  suppress  it. 
West  would  not  watch  for  its  appearance.  In 
his  busy  life,  with  new  burdens  and  perplexi- 
ties coming  every  day,  he  would  give  no  more 
thought  to  a  completed  task,  especially  as  this 
particular  one  dealt  with  his  personal  ambition, 
and  not  with  his  public  duties. 

"  I  really  ought  not  to  allow  this  to  be 
mailed,"  she  thought.  "  But  in  common 
decency  I  can  do  nothing.  Why  isn't  Sena- 
tor Chadwick  here  to  slip  it  into  his  pocket? 
He  would  have  no  scruples." 

She  turned  away  resolutely.  It  was  growing 
colder  ;  the  glass  was  chill  to  her  touch.  "  We 
shall  have  another  frost  to-night,"  she  thought. 

The  sun  was  just  dropping  below  the  hori- 
zon. The  sky  was  a  clear  turquoise  back  of 
the  dark  pines.  "  What  a  coward  I  am,"  she 
said  aloud,  "  to  wish  Senator  Chadwick  were 
here  to  do  what  I  ought  to  do  myself!  "  She 
turned,  and,  picking  up  the  envelope,  tore  it 


1 66  The  Washingtonians 

and  its  contents  through  and  through.  She 
put  the  fragments  in  the  pocket  of  her  skirt. 
A  strange  faintness  succeeded  the  action.  What 
had  she  done  to  her  father  ?  She  felt  that  she 
had  destroyed  the  living  work  of  his  hands. 

Some  one  was  coming  down  the  stairs.  It 
was  Virginia,  who  passed  on  into  the  drawing- 
room  without  seeing  her  cousin.  Portia  re- 
mained silent.  She  was  not  in  the  mood  to 
speak  to  any  one. 

"  What  is  David  thinking  of  to  marry  that 
child  ?  Neither  of  them  has  a  cent  beyond 
his  salary,"  she  murmured,  trying  to  take  her 
thought  away  from  what  she  had  just  done. 

Virginia  passed  before  the  glow  of  the  open 
fire.  She  lighted  the  lamp  on  the  table,  and 
replaced  the  rose-shaded  globe.  Suddenly  she 
started. 

In  the  cushioned  easy-chair  before  the  fire 
reclined  the  long  figure  of  La  Cerf  relaxed  in 
sleep.  He  had  come  early,  and  had  been  wait- 
ing an  hour  for  the  family  to  come  in. 

She  stood  gazing  at  him  like  one  transfixed. 
His  face,  with  its  profile  so  like  a  Roman's, 
held  in  sleep  an  even  more  inscrutable  look. 

With  trembling  hand  she  reached  past  him 
to  take  down  the  candle  on  that  end  of  the 
mantel.  She  lighted  it.  As  she  was  return- 
ing it  to  its  place  a  drop  of  the  hot  wax  fell  on 
La  Cerfs  hand.  There  flashed  into  her  mind 
the  legend  of  Psyche. 


The  Washingtonians  167 

There  was  no  tremor  in  his  hand,  but,  as 
she  glanced  from  it  to  its  face,  she  met  the 
gaze  of  his  wide-open  eyes. 

She  was  fascinated,  fluttering,  distressed. 
The  candle  she  still  held  brought  into  vivid 
relief  her  startled  face. 

La  Cerf's  eyes  narrowed  into  an  expression 
of  mingled  cruelty  and  triumph.  He  had  not 
forgotten  the  time  Prentiss  had  forced  him  to 
resign  his  position  at  the  piano.  There  burred 
within  his  breast  a  sense  of  injury  for  that  and 
for  other  incidents  in  the  past.  Underneath 
his  affairs  with  women,  those  idle  flirtations 
which  had  filled  his  tutor  with  such  scorn,  he 
retained,  though  with  wavering  faith,  a  cling- 
ing to  his  old  ideals  of  scholarship.  Any  real 
achievement  along  those  lines  was  not  possible, 
owing  to  his  lack  of  power  to  grasp  a  subject 
fully,  and  to  his  constitutional  indolence.  Civ- 
ilisation had  destroyed  in  him  any  longing  for 
outdoor  life,  and  had  implanted  in  him  a  rev- 
erence for  learning.  If  he  ever  ventured  to 
utter  a  sentiment,  so  naive  in  its  very  pretence 
of  knowledge,  in  the  presence  of  his  former 
tutor,  his  words  were  invariably  greeted  by  a 
smile  from  Prentiss  or  a  contemptuous  glance. 
The  latter  never  guessed  that  the  Indian's 
haughty  and  ridiculous  assumption  of  learning 
hid  a  childlike  attitude  of  mind. 

The  hatred  La  Cerf  had  cherished  toward 
Prentiss  for  his  superciliousness  clamoured  for 


1 68  The  Washingtonians 

revenge  as  he  continued  to  gaze  up  at  Vir- 
ginia, knowing  that  his  dark  look  held  her. 
Only  this  afternoon  General  Matthews  had  told 
him  of  the  engagement  of  the  two. 

She  shrank  backwards,  but  her  eyes  still  stared 
down  into  his.  The  candle  flamed  bright  and 
clear.  It  made  an  aura  of  her  hair. 

From  her  position  in  the  hall  Mrs.  Mat- 
thews could  not  see  La  Cerf.  She  was  turned 
from  her  mental  distress  by  the  picture  the 
girl  made.  She  looked  like  a  wondering 
Christmas  angel,  stricken  motionless,  with 
her  scarlet  parted  lips,  her  wide  blue  eyes, 
her  bright  hair. 

"  She  is  exquisite,"  thought  Portia.  "  I 
suppose  she  is  listening  for  David,"  and  invol- 
untarily, she  herself  looked  to  see  if  Prentiss 
were  coming  home  from  his  walk. 

Psyche's  drop  of  burning  wax  had  discov- 
ered a  god  in  the  mysterious  stranger.  But 
she,  Virginia,  who  had  fancied  a  very  prince 
beneath  the  inscrutable  bearing  of  the  Indian, 
what  had  she  discovered  ?  What  had  she  done 
to  make  him  look  at  her  so  ?  Trembling,  she 
put  the  candle  on  the  table. 

He  rose  to  his  feet,  and,  in  her  amazement 
at  his  cruel  expression,  she  perceived  neither 
his  outstretched  hand  nor  how  close  his  face 
approached  hers,  until  his  arm  tightened  sud- 
denly like  a  vice  about  her.  Before  she  had 
time  to  make  any  resistance,  he  kissed  her. 


The  Washingtonians  169 

Portia  saw  the  dark  form  of  the  Indian  rise 
suddenly  from  the  chair  which  had  hidden  him 
from  her  view,  and  draw  the  unresisting  girl 
into  his  embrace.  Her  first  thought,  after  the 
shock,  was  to  look  around  to  be  sure  that  no 
one  else  had  witnessed  the  tableau. 

"  Is  she  crazy  ?  "  she  cried.     "  Virginia  !  " 

Her  voice  carried  to  La  Cerf's  ears  alone. 
He  turned  and  saw  her.  He  had  been  about 
to  kiss  the  girl  again.  Now,  in  his  mortifica- 
tion, he  pushed  her  from  him. 

Anger  and  shame  seized  him.  Long  ago 
he  had  conceived  a  kind  of  worship  for  Mrs. 
Matthews.  He  had  feared  to  show  it  to  her, 
although  he  felt  she,  too,  admired  him  in  turn. 
He  pointed  to  Virginia,  who  had  sunk  into  a 
chair,  and  covered  her  face  with  her  hands. 

"  I  do  not  care  for  her,"  he  said,  his  voice 
husky  with  emotion  ;  "  she  is  like  all  the  rest. 
I  hate  her.  I  hate  Prentiss.  I  do  not  care 
for  her." 

Mrs.  Matthews  gave  him  a  glance  of  con- 
tempt. Did  the  fool  suppose  she  was  jealous  ? 
Later  he  should  be  punished  for  his  presump- 
tion. But  now  she  had  no  time  for  him.  She 
dragged  Virginia's  hands  away  from  her  face. 

"  My  child,  do  you  hear  him  ?  He  does  not 
care  for  you.  He  hates  you."  She  felt  that 
now  or  never  was  the  time  to  rid  the  girl's  mind 
of  any  foolish  thought  of  this  man.  "  I  shall 
not  let  go  of  your  hands  until  you  answer  me." 


170  The  Washingtonians 

"  I  do  not  care  for  her,"  repeated  La  Cerf, 
in  his  sullen  rage.  "It  is  you  I  love." 

"  I  hear  him,"  said  Virginia,  compelled  by 
her  cousin's  remorseless  grasp. 

The  front  doorbell  pealed  long  and  merrily 
through  the  house.  Mrs.  Matthews  blew  out 
the  flame  of  the  lamp. 

"  Try  to  compose  yourself.  Remember  not 
to  give  way.  Father's  dinner  would  be  spoiled 
if  I  said  you  were  sick.  You  can't  go  to  your 
room,  ' 

"We  are  coming  right  in,"  cried  the  cheer- 
ful voice  of  Mrs.  Haas.  "  What  a  lovely  fire  ! 
Merry  Christmas,  Portia.  Why,  Mr.  La  Cerf, 
how  do  you  do  ?  Merry  Christmas." 

"  Here  is  Virginia,  too,"  rejoined  Mrs. 
Matthews.  "  Let  me  take  your  things.  Do 
you  like  to  tell  ghost-stories  by  the  firelight, 
when  it  is  getting  dark  ?  " 

"  So  that  is  what  you  were  doing,"  spoke 
Haas,  heartily.  "  Not  a  bad  plan.  Mr.  La 
Cerf,  were  you  telling  some  tale  of  your 
Indian  ancestors  ? " 

La  Cerf  scowled  at  him. 

"  I  will  tell  you  one,"  Haas  volunteered. 
"  No,  better  yet,  I  will  sing  you  the  Erl- 
King."  He  smiled  at  them  all,  as  he  stood 
drawing  off  his  gloves,  quite  unconscious  of 
the  black  look  the  Indian  bent  on  him.  The 
firelight  shone  on  his  wholesome  German  face. 
Prentiss  came  into  the  room  while  Haas  was 


The  Washingtonians  171 

singing,  and  made  his  way  to  Virginia's  side. 
In  the  protection  of  the  shadow  the  fire  cast 
he  took  her  hand,  and  held  it  tenderly  in 
his. 

La  Cerf's  presence  caused  him  no  particular 
emotion.  The  passion  and  grief  of  the  scene 
in  the  morning  had  drawn  him  and  Virginia 
nearer.  As  she  sat  beside  him,  it  seemed  as 
if  she  were  indeed  his  wife,  so  sweet  the  fire- 
light confidence  of  their  clasped  hands. 


Chapter    XIII 

LA  CERF  called  the  next  morning  to 
make  his  apologies  to  Mrs.  Matthews. 
The  previous  evening  had  afforded  him  no 
opportunity  to  do  so. 

"  I  think  it  is  to  my  cousin,  rather  than  to 
me,  to  whom  you  owe  an  apology,"  she  said, 
when  he  made  known  the  nature  of  his 
errand,  "  if  my  sight  did  not  mistake  me,  it 
was  she  and  not  myself  on  whom  you  bestowed 
your  affectionate  greeting." 

He  regarded  her  solemnly.  "  I  do  not  like 
her.  Why  should  I  apologise  to  her?  She 
wanted  me  to  kiss  her.  But  I,  I  love  you.  I 
would  not  have  kissed  her  had  I  thought  it 
would  have  made  you  angry  with  me."  He 
touched  his  breast.  "  I  have  here  your  picture 
in  my  pocket,  and  I  am  not  ashamed  to  carry 
a  woman's  picture  about  me  because  this  has 
your  face."  He  was  interrupted  by  a  spell  of 
coughing. 

"  You  had  better  move  nearer  the  fire,"  she 
suggested.  "  I  think  there's  a  draught  from 
that  window." 

"  I  always  tell  every  one  what  a  fine  Presi- 
172 


The  Washingtonians  173 

dent  your  father  would  be,"  he  finished,  and 
relapsed  into  a  gloomy  silence. 

"  Your  expressions  of  regard  for  me  I  pass 
over  on  condition  that  you  never  repeat  them," 
she  answered.  "  I  must  also  ask  you  to  return 
my  picture.  Concerning  my  cousin,  I  am  sorry 
that  you  should  have  taken  such  unfair  advan- 
tage of  one  who  is  not  much  more  than  a  little 
girl  in  my  family.  General  Matthews  and  I 
have  never  shown  you  anything  but  kindness, 
Mr.  La  Cerf,  but  I  do  not  deplore  this  affair 
on  our  account  as  I  do  on  David's.  You 
knew  from  my  husband  that  Virginia  and  he 
were  engaged.  It  is  this  that  fills  me  with 
such  keen  resentment.  Otherwise  I  should 
have  considered  both  you  and  her  extremely 
foolish  and  imprudent  young  people  and 
should  have  put  an  end  to  any  further  non- 
sense. Were  it  any  one  else  but  yourself  he 
would  not  have  been  again  admitted  to  my 
home.  We  expect  a  gentleman  not  to  kiss 
the  fiancee  of  his  friend  nor  to  tell  a  married 
woman  that  he  loves  her." 

La  Cerf  started  to  rise,  his  face  quivering 
with  anger. 

She  laid  her  hand  a  moment  on  his.  Her 
touch,  her  swift  smile,  quieted  him.  "  Please 
wait  a  minute,"  she  begged ;  "  if  I  were  not 
fond  of  you  I  would  not  speak  so  frankly  to 
you."  Both  her  magnetism  and  force  were 
great.  The  fairness  of  her  colouring  fascinated 


174  The  Washingtonians 

him.  He  made  no  further  effort  to  leave,  and 
sank  back  into  his  chair. 

She  continued  with  a  kindness  that  disarmed 
his  resentment.  "  I  do  not  blame  you  for  the 
attitude  you  assume  toward  women  as  I  would 
blame  an  American — " 

"  I  am  an  American,"  he  interrupted,  fiercely. 

"  You  did  not  let  me  finish."  She  corrected 
the  impression  with  quick  tact.  "  As  I  would 
blame  an  American  who  had  the  traditions  of 
a  New  Englander  or  Southerner." 

He  understood  her  meaning  and  was  humil- 
iated. She  would  not  hold  him  responsible 
because  of  the  blood  that  was  in  him.  His 
ambition  had  been  to  be  both  a  scholar  and  a 
gentleman.  Prentiss  sneered  at  his  inability 
to  learn  and  Mrs.  Matthews  had  just  all  but 
told  him  he  had  the  instincts  of  the  savage. 
Despair  filled  his  heart.  His  mind  groped 
vaguely  for  the  reason  which  would  give  him 
the  clue  to  his  lack  of  success. 

Would  he  have  been  happier  if  he  had  lived 
according  to  the  way  of  his  people,  wild  and 
savage  and  free,  untrammelled  by  the  fetters  of 
civilisation  ?  His  fancy  recoiled.  His  mother 
had  been  educated  in  the  girls'  mission  school, 
and  she  had  imparted  to  her  son  her  own  meek 
reverence  for  the  wisdom  of  the  white  race. 
The  more  virile  traits  in  his  nature  had  suc- 
cumbed to  this  maternal  inheritance,  which  he 
did  not  recognise.  He  had  long  since  scorned 


The  Washingtonians  175 

to  take  notice  of  his  mother.  She  had  married 
a  second  time  and  returned  to  the  customs  of 
her  tribe.  But  Nature  had  revenged  herself 
in  the  beginning  for  this  unfilial  conduct  of  the 
future,  and  in  bestowing  upon  him  a  body 
beautiful  in  its  symmetry  as  it  was  splendid 
in  its  height  and  power  she  had  given  him  his 
mother's  spirit. 

"  I  have  often  wished  before  this  to  speak  to 
you,"  continued  Mrs.  Matthews,  "  but  until 
now  I  have  had  neither  the  courage  nor  the 
opportunity.  Both  General  Matthews  and  I 
have  felt  that  you  are  not  the  man  your  foster- 
father  wished  you  to  be.  He  gave  you  every 
advantage,  the  right  to  take  his  name  if  you 
so  desired,  and  left  you  his  fortune.  He  did 
not  expect  that  you  would  fritter  away  your 
time  with  silly  women  or  in  lounging  at  your 
club.  He  wished  you  to  become  a  good 
citizen,  and  yet,  I  think,  you  have  never  voted. 
You  take  no  part  in  our  politics ;  you  shrink 
from  a  public  duty  in  not  going  to  the  war. 
You  ought  to  be  on  the  field  this  day  fighting 
for  your  country." 

He  regarded  her  steadfastly,  but  did  not 
peak.  For  the  first  time  he  was  distinctly 
conscious  that  her  attitude  toward  him  was 
different  from  that  of  other  women.  In  her 
eyes  was  a  compassionate  though  impersonal 
regard,  which  he  could  not  analyse,  but  which 
his  vanity  resented.  Yet  an  emotion,  more 


176  The  Washingtonians 

nearly  approaching  tenderness  in  him  than  he 
had  ever  known,  welcomed  it. 

Mrs.  Matthews's  expression  of  large  kind- 
ness and  pity  was  not  so  much  for  him,  the 
individual,  as  for  his  race.  Back  of  him  she 
saw  his  conquered,  yet  most  unconquered, 
dying  people. 

She,  the  only  woman  who  had  ever  com- 
pelled his  respect,  who  was  so  beautiful  that 
he  wished  to  sit  silent  in  her  presence,  she 
cared  nothing  for  him,  ran  La  Cerf's  painful 
thoughts.  His  lurking  contempt  for  other 
women  crystallised  into  hatred  of  them  in- 
tense as  his  deification  of  her.  She  had  not 
wished  him  to  make  love  to  her,  because  she 
was  very  proud  and  was  married.  She  had 
not  flattered  and  courted  him,  but  had  told 
him  to  fight  for  his  country  like  a  brave 
American. 

This  honouring  of  her  in  his  heart  warred 
against  a  passion  for  her  person,  which  he 
knew  he  never  could  attain.  It  maddened 
him.  Twice  he  rose  to  go,  twice  reseated  him- 
self. He  did  not  dare  to  touch  her.  He 
longed  to  rush  from  her,  but  could  not  bring 
himself  to  go.  He  could  not  remove  his 
baffled,  wounded,  and  passionate  gaze  from 
that  perfect  face.  She  saw  his  features  in- 
tensified in  their  strange  and  fascinating  beauty 
by  the  agony  of  his  mind.  For  the  first  time 
she  appreciated  how  it  was  that  others  had 


The  Washingtonians  177 

declared  him  noble-looking.  At  this  moment 
his  race,  as  romance  had  conceived  it  in  its 
highest,  earliest  type,  shone  out  in  him.  In 
his  eyes  was  the  expression  of  a  wounded 
animal. 

Speculations  regarding  him  crowded  into 
her  mind.  "  He  will  not  live  long  after  this, 
or  else  he  will  sink  to  the  besotted  condition 
of  his  tribe.  He  has  exceeded  his  heritage  in 
comprehending,  even  to  this  extent,  what  love 
might  be.  He  could  have  borne  success  in 
love,  but  he  will  succumb  to  defeat.  His 
religion  will  mean  nothing  more  to  him." 

He  still  remained  silent,  not  knowing  what 
to  do,  nor  where  to  go,  as  if  any  return  to  his 
former  way  of  living  were  cut  off  from  him. 
Then  relief,  at  memory  of  her  words,  came  to 
him.  He  rose.  The  light  fell  on  his  head 
and  figure.  This  moment  was  making  him 
magnificent.  She  came  near  to  a  feeling  of 
admiration  for  him. 

"  I  am  going  to  the  war,"  he  said.  "I  shall 
enlist  to-day.  Farewell." 

He  took  up  his  overcoat  from  a  chair,  and 
began  to  put  it  on.  For  the  first  time  she 
observed  how  carefully  he  had  dressed  himself 
for  this  morning  call ;  wearing  his  high  silk 
hat,  a  carnation  in  his  buttonhole,  and  pearl 
kid  gloves  on  his  small  hands.  His  long-tailed 
bright  blue  coat  had  gold  buttons.  What  a 
dandy  the  boy  was  !  Had  he  really  thought 


178  The  Washingtonians 

to  impress  her  ?  She  admitted  that  his  finery 
did  not  make  him  seem  overdressed  nor  vul- 
gar, and  she  wondered  how  her  father  could 
have  compared  him  to  a  mulatto.  In  his  dark 
way  she  had  never  seen  a  more  aristocratic- 
looking  man. 

He  tried  not  to  look  at  her  again.  Mingled 
with  his  distress  was  scorn  that  a  woman, 
though  it  were  she,  should  send  him  to  the 
war.  It  made  him  haughty  and  resentful. 
Pride  crushed  the  passion  that  longed  to  turn 
and  hold  her  in  one  wild  embrace  of  parting. 

But  as  Mrs.  Matthews  rose,  and  so  came 
within  his  averted  vision,  he  caught  the  gleam 
of  her  golden  hair,  and  suddenly  he  put  out 
his  hand  and  touched  a  tendril  that  had 
escaped  from  the  confinement  of  the  ivory 
comb  she  was  wearing. 

It  seemed  to  her  that  his  gesture  was  that 
of  a  child  or  savage  attracted  by  some  bright 
object.  In  another  moment  he  was  gone. 
She  heard  the  front  door  close  after  him,  and 
was  tempted  to  call  him  back.  She  felt  that 
she  was  sending  a  boy  to  his  death. 

Virginia  had  not  appeared  at  breakfast.  Her 
absence  irritated  Mrs.  Matthews,  who  felt  that 
for  her  to  do  less  than  to  ignore  the  scene  of 
the  previous  day  was  unpardonable.  She  her- 
self had  not  intended  to  mention  it  again.  She 
felt  that  her  cousin,  by  keeping  to  her  room, 
compelled  a  visit  from  her  to  inquire,  in  all 


The  Washingtonians  179 

decency,  if  she  were  ill.  In  all  probability 
there  would  be  a  scene.  She  could  imagine 
the  tears  and  regrets,  the  sentimental  resolves 
to  tell  David  the  circumstance.  He  had  been 
in  too  good  spirits  at  breakfast  to  make  her 
suppose  that  Virginia  had  told  him  anything 
the  night  before.  She  went  up-stairs  with  an 
entire  absence  of  sympathy. 

To  her  surprise,  she  found  her  cousin  writing 
on  her  lap  by  the  window. 

"  Why  don't  you  sit  at  the  desk,  my  dear, 
if  you  wish  to  write?  It's  inconvenient  to 
hold  the  paper  that  way.  Besides,  you  are 
apt  to  spot  your  dress  with  ink."  She  shut 
the  door,  and  sat  down  on  the  edge  of  the 
bed. 

Virginia  made  no  reply  except  to  put  the 
sheet  on  which  she  was  writing  inside  the  book 
that  made  temporary  shift  for  the  desk.  She 
was  dressed  in  a  gray  travelling  suit.  On  the 
bed  were  her  hat  and  gloves  and  veil.  Mrs. 
Matthews  saw  that  her  trunk  had  been  dragged 
out  from  the  closet.  It  was  closed,  and  she 
could  not  tell  whether  it  had  yet  been  packed 
or  not. 

"  What  does  this  mean  ?  "  she  asked,  im- 
peratively, with  a  gesture  toward  the  trunk. 

"  I  am  going  away,"  answered  Virginia. 
"  As  soon  as  I  had  finished  this  letter  I  was 
coming  to  ask  you  if  you  would  please  cash 
the  check  Cousin  Tom  gave  me  yesterday  for 


180  The  Washingtonians 

my  Christmas  gift.  If  you  could  I  would 
not  have  to  go  to  the  bank.  I  shall  need  it 
for  my  railroad  fare." 

"  May  I  inquire  where  you  are  going  ? " 
said  Mrs.  Matthews. 

"  Only  as  far  as  Alexandria  to  visit  my  great- 
aunt  there.  She  has  often  asked  me  to  come." 

"  Very  well,"  answered  her  cousin,  "  I  will 
have  Tom  take  you  down  himself.  I  do  not 
think  the  journey  will  be  too  much  for  him. 
It  will  be  only  a  few  hours." 

Until  now  Virginia  had  maintained  her  self- 
control,  but  her  cousin's  willingness  to  let  her 
have  her  own  way  was  so  unexpected  that  her 
fortitude  gave  way  and  she  began  to  weep. 

"  Have  you  had  your  breakfast  ? "  asked 
Portia. 

She  was  answered  by  a  nod.  "  Then  stop 
crying.  You  have  been  ridiculous  enough 
already  without  adding  tears.  And  to  be  per- 
fectly frank  with  you,  my  dear,  I  would  rather 
see  you  kiss  another  young  man  than  go  into 
a  fit  of  hysterics." 

"  I  didn't  kiss  him.  He  kissed  me  !  "  cried 
Virginia. 

"  It's  tweedle-dee  and  tweedle-dum  between 
the  two,"  retorted  Portia.  "  I  have  just  had  a 
call  from  Mr.  La  Cerf.  He  was  quite  as  ab- 
surd as  you  are,  but  I  lavished  upon  him  my 
only  talent,  good  common  sense.  And  I  am 
going  to  talk  to  you  in  the  same  way.  There 


The  Washingtonians  181 

is  still  time  to  have  a  talk  before  you  make 
your  final  decision  to  take  the  train.  First  of 
all  you  will  be  spared  seeing  him  for  some 
months,  at  any  rate,  as  he  is  going  to  the  war. 
He  will  enlist  to-day." 

"  We  shall  never  see  him  again,"  said  Vir- 
ginia;  "  he  will  be  killed." 

As  Mrs.  Matthews  met  the  girl's  wide, 
solemn  eyes  wet  with  suspended  tears,  she, 
too,  felt  a  thrill  of  apprehension. 

"He  will  be  killed,"  repeated  Virginia,  fold- 
ing her  hands  in  her  lap  in  an  effort  to  keep 
them  from  trembling.  But  a  long  shudder 
shook  her  from  head  to  foot. 

The  other's  irritation  vanished.  She  felt 
more  kindly  and  sympathetic.  "  We  are  not 
concerned  with  what  comes  of  La  Cerf  for 
doing  his  duty,  and  now  let  us  think  no  more 
of  him.  Have  you  told  David  that  you  are 
going  ?  No  ?  Do  you  owe  him  nothing, 
Virginia  ?  " 

The  other  indicated  the  book  she  held.  "  I 
have  a  letter  in  here  almost  finished  to  him." 

"  And  you  are  going  to  break  your  engage- 
ment with  him  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Virginia ;  "  I  am  not  worthy  of 
him.  Because  of  yesterday." 

Portia's  laughter  rang  out,  sweet  and  whole- 
some, clearing  the  nervous  atmosphere.  She 
leant  forward  with  one  of  her  rare  impulses 
of  affection  and  took  the  girl's  hands  warmly 


1 82  The  Washingtonians 

in  both  of  hers.  "Is  that  it?  Do  you  think 
you  are  really  any  different  from  what  you  were 
before  this  affair  ?  Not  a  whit.  I  did  not 
think  you  a  bit  more  foolish  then  than  I  had 
many  times  before.  Does  that  comfort  you  ? 
You  little  goose,  do  you  think  you're  the  only 
woman  David  ever  kissed  ?  " 

Virginia  raised  her  eyes  but  "quickly  looked 
away,  fearing  to  embarrass  the  face  smiling  into 
her  own. 

Mrs.  Matthews  flushed,  and  drew  away. 
"  I  think  I  will  tell  you  something.  I  see 
you  have  guessed  that  at  one  time  David  and 
I  fancied  we  cared  for  each  other." 

"  Yes,"  whispered  Virginia. 

"  Has  that  had  anything  to  do  with  your 
decision  ? " 

There  was  no  reply. 

"  I  suppose  I  am  to  infer  it  has,"  said  Mrs. 
Matthews.  "  You  do  not  deny  it.  You  may 
set  your  mind  at  rest,  however.  We  would 
never  have  been  happy  together.  You  have 
David's  best  love.  Do  you  think  I  don't 
know  him  ?  I  was  very  much  in  love  with 
him  and  he  was  with  me.  We  were  no  more 
suited  to  each  other  than  you  and  La  Cerf. 
There  were  two  reasons  why  I  refused  him. 
He  had  no  money  and  he  had  too  strong  a 
will  to  make  me  happy.  We  should  have 
quarrelled  and  separated.  You  will  make  a 
great  mistake  if  you  give  him  up.  He  will 


The  Washingtonians  1 83 

never  be  rich,  but  he  has  a  future  and  you  do 
not  care  for  money.  It  is  not  essential  to  your 
happiness.  And  you  will  never  love  any  one 
else,  although  now  you  do  not  admit  that  you 
love  him.  I  knew  better  than  to  marry  him. 
But  you  will  be  happy  with  him.  His  nature 
demands  a  wife  who  will  yield  to  him.  And 
you  will  do  what  he  says  without  any  thought 
of  giving  up  your  liberty.  You  are  so  exas- 
peratingly  feminine,  Virginia.  And  David  is 
such  an  autocrat.  Can't  you  see  how  well 
suited  you  are  to  each  other  ?  " 

"  Portia,"  said  the  girl,  "  do  you  think  that 
it  will  make  no  difference  to  David  when  he 
learns  that  with  his  kiss  still  on  my  lips,  for 
he  had  kissed  me  early  that  morning,  I  let 
another  man  kiss  me  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know,"  she  answered,  "  I  don't 
know.  He  has  not  a  nature  that  forgives 
easily.  I  would  have  been  afraid  of  him  if  I 
had  married  him.  Tom  has  a  more  violent 
temper,  but  he  is  more  generous,  more  really 
sympathetic.  I  am  talking  to  you  very  frankly, 
my  dear,  because  it  is  best  for  you  to  under- 
stand thoroughly  the  faults  of  your  husband. 
If  you  tell  him,  I  doubt  if  he  will  trust  you 
fully  again.  He  is  too  jealous  a  man  to  for- 
get. I  advise  you  never  to  tell  him.  It  is 
the  only  decent  and  unselfish  thing  left  for 
you  to  do.  When  you  are  married  long 
enough  to  have  become  good  friends  with  your 


184  The  Washingtonians 

husband,  tell  him,  if  you  wish.  But  make  up 
your  mind  that  while  you  are  still  lovers  you 
will  never  be  good  friends.  You  will  hurt  his 
pride,  wound  his  faith,  and  weaken  your  influ- 
ence with  him.  And  if  you  think  that  you 
ought  to  be  punished,  why,  the  enforced  con- 
cealment will  be  sufficient  to  one  of  your  senti- 
mental nature."  A  new  thought  perplexed 
her.  "  I  hope  you  are  not  thinking  any  longer 
of  La  Cerf.  That  would  be  ridiculous." 

"  He  loved  you,"  said  Virginia ;  "  he  said 
so." 

"  And  he  said  so  again  this  morning,"  spoke 
Mrs.  Matthews,  sternly.  "  Has  that  anything 
to  do  with  you  ?  " 

Again  the  shudder  ran  through  the  girl's 
frame. 

"  They  both  loved  you  !  "  she  cried,  "  you  !  " 

"  Love,  love,  love  !  Did  you  ever  hear  of 
common-sense  ?  "  retorted  her  cousin.  "  What 
is  it  now  ?  Are  you  angry  with  me  ?  " 

"  No,  no,"  wailed  Virginia ;  "  but  why  don't 
you  go,  Portia  ?  I  am  so  humiliated.  I  shall 
die.  Why  do  you  oppose  me  ?  I  want  to 
go  away." 

"Very  well,"  she  assented.  "I  shall  say 
nothing  to  David.  Send  him  your  letter.  I 
don't  suppose  any  one  was  ever  yet  thanked 
for  interfering  in  a  lover's  quarrel.  I  am 
going  now  to  see  Tom.  I  don't  want  you  to 
go  down  to  Alexandria  alone,  with  so  many 


The  Washingtonians  185 

soldiers  everywhere.  I  will  send  John  to 
strap  your  trunk.  I  will  attend  to  your 
lunch."  She  stopped  to  kiss  her,  but  the 
girl  drew  away. 

But  before  she  reached  the  door,  Virginia 
had  run  to  her,  and  thrown  her  arms  about 
her  neck.  "  Dear,  dear  Portia,"  she  sobbed, 
"  I  did  not  mean  to  be  so  horrid  to  you.  I 
am  so  unhappy.  But  I  love  him,  and  he 
loved  you." 

"  Which  one  do  you  mean  ?  "  asked  Mrs. 
Matthews.  "  I  think  you  may  have  to  go 
down  to  Alexandria,  after  all,  to  find  out." 


Chapter   XIV 

IN  spite  of  his  intense  pride,  Secretary  West 
could  not  conceal  from  his  household  that 
he  suffered  under  adverse  criticism.  He  be- 
came morbidly  sensitive  to  public  opinion. 
Any  attack  made  upon  his  character  caused 
him  to  write  long  letters  to  his  friends.  He 
showed  himself  angry  and  hurt  that  he  should 
be  misjudged  by  the  public  he  had  so  long 
and  faithfully  served.  In  these  moods  he 
imagined  that  all  he  wished  was  to  be  allowed 
to  retire  to  the  peace  and  content  of  pri- 
vate life  as  soon  as  his  present  term  of  office 
ended.  He  was  not  on  cordial  terms  with  the 
other  members  of  the  Cabinet,  so  haughty  was 
his  attitude  toward  his  equals.  His  aversion 
to  the  President  intensified.  The  latter  per- 
sisted in  treating  West  as  a  subordinate,  and 
did  not  appear  to  regard  him  seriously  as  a 
prospective  rival  candidate.  The  Secretary 
received,  however,  the  devotion  of  a  number 
of  younger  men  and  second-rate  politicians 
who  thronged  the  capital.  It  needed  but  their 
encouragement  and  assurances  of  faith  in  the 
strength  of  his  position  to  put  him  into  the 
most  optimistic  humour. 
186 


The  Washingtonians  187 

His  son-in-law,  during  these  disturbed  days, 
was  his  sharpest  thorn  in  the  flesh.  He  had 
never  done  Matthews  justice.  He  measured 
him  by  his  old-fashioned  idea  of  what  made  a 
gentleman  in  the  purely  worldly  sense  of  the 
word,  —  a  classical  education,  and  the  adoption 
of  one  of  the  learned  professions  if  a  man's 
private  fortune  were  not  sufficient  to  support 
him.  But  his  daughter's  husband  had  not 
a  schoolboy's  knowledge  of  Greek  and  Latin, 
and  his  immense  fortune  came  from  the  large 
mills  he  owned  in  Massachusetts.  When  the 
war  broke  out,  Matthews  had  put  a  business 
manager  in  his  place,  and  enlisted.  He  had 
proved  himself  an  intrepid  soldier. 

West  considered  personal  bravery  so  natural 
a  characteristic  of  man  that  he  attached  no 
particular  virtue  to  it  in  Matthews's  case. 
Much  of  his  coldness  came  from  this  inability 
to  feel  enthusiasm  over  moral  nobility.  He 
was  seldom  appealed  to  on  the  emotional  side 
of  his  nature.  Virtue  was  a  kind  of  intellectual 
conviction  with  him.  Wrongdoing  seemed  so 
incompatible  with  wisdom  that  he  could  not 
conceive  of  an  intelligent  person  loving  evil. 
So  it  was  that  he  felt  no  thrill  at  the  recount- 
ing of  a  brave  deed,  nor  any  throb  of  sympathy 
at  some  personal  sacrifice  which  made  the  world 
kin. 

From  the  first  General  Matthews  had  shown 
himself  lacking  in  all  sympathy  with  the  Secre- 


1 88  The  Washingtonians 

tary's  ambition,  and  the  latter  could  not  forgive 
him.  Senator  Chadwick  had  further  antago- 
nised the  two  men.  He  was  unable  to  under- 
stand such  family  policy. 

"  I  should  think  he  would  want  to  see  you 
President,  Mr.  West,"  he  would  say,  when  his 
busy  mind  thought  of  the  influence  Matthews, 
with  his  unlimited  money,  his  popularity  with 
the  soldiers,  and  his  power  over  the  mill- 
hands,  might  exert  in  his  father-in-law's  be- 
half. "  I  should  think  he  would  for  his  wife's 
sake." 

He  sought  Matthews,  and  quietly  endeav- 
oured to  find  out  if  he  had  any  reason  for  his 
antagonism,  but  was  met  by  so  repellent  a 
stare  at  his  advances  that  he  gave  the  matter 
up  for  the  time  being. 

"  He'll  come  around  once  you're  nomi- 
nated," he  assured  the  Secretary,  "  then  I'm 
confident  he'll  pitch  in  and  work  with  the 
rest  of  us.  At  present,  though,  he's  a  losing 
card.  I'm  sure  that  all  he  needs  is  to  be  con- 
vinced you  have  a  fighting  chance,  and  we'll 
show  him  that  you  have.  He's  too  long- 
headed to  hunt  a  mare's  nest." 

This  intimacy  between  West  and  Chadwick 
was  an  almost  incredible  fact  to  Matthews. 
He  broke  through  his  habitual  reserve  to 
speak  of  it  to  Prentiss  one  evening.  The 
day  had  been  mild,  with  a  touch  of  spring, 
and  the  two  started  for  an  after-dinner  stroll. 


The  Washingtonians  189 

The  three  men  had  dined  alone,  as  Mrs. 
Matthews  was  in  town  assisting  at  a  reception, 
which  was  to  last  through  the  afternoon  and 
evening. 

As  they  paused  on  the  verandah  to  light 
their  cigars,  his  glance  strayed  in  the  library 
window,  and  he  saw  his  father-in-law  lighting 
the  lamp  preparatory  to  hours  of  work. 

"  See  how  gray  he's  getting,  Prentiss.  I  de- 
clare, much  as  he  irritates  me,  it  goes  to  my 
heart  to  see  him  these  days.  It's  going  hard 
with  him,  and  it  will  go  harder  in  the  end  I'm 
afraid.  Now,  why  couldn't  he  be  companion- 
able, and  go  for  a  walk  with  us?  It  would 
do  him  good.  He  ought  to  smoke,  don't  you 
think  so  ?  " 

"  That's  what  I  tell  him,"  answered  Pren- 
tiss. "  But  of  course  it  does  no  good.  He's 
a  great  man  and  I'm  not,  and  I  lay  the  differ- 
ence to  the  fact  that  he  has  the  faults  of  his 
virtues,  and  I  have  the  virtues  of  my  faults." 

"How's  that?"  cried  Matthews.  "Just 
say  that  over  again,  if  you  please." 

Prentiss  laughed.  "  What  I  mean  is  that 
if  he  smoked  and  drank  a  little  he  would  be 
what  we  are  apt  to  call  more  of  a  good  fellow, 
and  would  be  more  popular." 

"  I'm  sure  of  it,"  answered  his  companion. 
"  He'd  learn  not  to  fly  off  at  a  tangent,  and 
he'd  tell  a  good  story  without  spoiling  it.  I 
can  imagine  what  he'd  say  of  me  after  hearing 


190  The  Washingtonians 

your  nice  discrimination  of  the  faults  of  vir- 
tues and  the  virtues  of  faults.  He'd  say  I 
possessed  the  faults  of  my  faults." 

"  I'm  sorry,"  rejoined  the  younger  man, 
simply.  He  wished  that  Matthews  were  not 
so  opposed  to  West's  political  ambitions. 
With  a  sincere  appreciation  of  the  virtues  of 
both  men,  he  could  see  what  an  admirable  com- 
bination the  two  would  make  if  they  could 
once  be  persuaded  to  work  together.  West 
needed  just  such  an  adviser,  one  who  had  the 
honour  of  the  soldier  as  well  as  the  shrewd- 
ness of  the  business  man.  Prentiss  was  most 
loyally  devoted  to  his  chief.  But  he  wished 
he  drew  stronger  men  around  him.  He  knew 
him  to  be  absolutely  unsuspicious,  accepting 
any  word  from  a  supposed  friend  with  pathetic 
trustfulness. 

Unlike  Prentiss,  Matthews  had  not  the 
touch  of  the  poet  in  him  to  make  him  rever- 
ence this  childlike  confidence  in  a  man  who 
was  really  great,  and  he  deplored  afresh  the 
confidential  relations  with  Chadwick. 

"  I  am  perfectly  sure  that,  aside  from  his 
pushing  Mr.  West  politically,  he  has  some 
other  scheme  up  his  sleeve  to  make  money. 
He  is  probably  working  to  get  some  valuable 
hint  as  to  investing  money." 

"  Well,  he'll  never  get  that  hint,"  rejoined 
Prentiss.  "  Once  Mr.  West  suspects  any 
such  design  he  will  close  up  like  a  clam.  Only 


The  Washingtonians  191 

he  never  will  suspect,  and  the  schemers  will 
be  more  baffled  by  his  reserve  than  by  a  direct 
refusal.  And  when  there  have  been  politi- 
cians bold  enough  to  ask  openly  for  a  sugges- 
tion to  operate  a  financial  deal,  I  have  seen 
him  stare  at  them  with  such  angry  amazement 
that  they  must  have  hated  him  ever  after  for 
his  contempt." 

"  I  must  turn  back,"  remarked  General  Mat- 
thews ;  "  it  is  getting  damp,  and  I  felt  a  twinge 
in  my  wound.  Walk  back  a  way  with  me, 
and  then  you  can  start  off  again  if  you  want  a 
longer  walk."  He  was  secretly  depressed. 
The  sting  of  his  disapproval  of  the  Secretary's 
intimacy  with  Chadwick  was  his  wife's  friend- 
ship with  the  man. 

"  He's  a  low  fellow,"  he  said.  "  I've  found 
out  how  he  first  got  his  start  in  the  law.  It 
seems  there  was  a  railroad  disaster,  a  collision 
just  outside  the  depot  in  his  native  town,  and 
he  was  there  actually  on  hand  before  the 
nurses  and  surgeons,  getting  the  names  of 
the  wounded,  and  following  them  up  to  the 
hospitals  to  get  their  authority  to  open  suit 
against  the  railroad.  What  do  you  think  of 
that  ?  " 

"  How  like  an  enterprising  ghoul,"  com- 
mented Prentiss,  smiling.  "  I  can  imagine 
how  dapperly  he  stepped  about  over  and 
around  the  wreckage.  If  Mr.  West  asks  for 
me  tell  him  I'll  be  back  in  good  time.  I'm 


192,  The  Washingtonians 

restless,  and  want  a  longer  walk.  Still,  I  think 
you're  wise  to  go  in." 

He  went  in  a  moment  himself  to  get  his 
pipe  and  to  replenish  his  match-box.  As  he 
stepped  out  again  upon  the  verandah  a  carriage 
came  rapidly  up  the  driveway,  and  Senator 
Chadwick's  pale  face,  beneath  a  high  silk  hat, 
was  thrust  out  of  the  door.  When  the  cab 
drew  up  he  stepped  briskly  out,  and  greeted 
Prentiss  cordially. 

"I  was  thinking  of  you,"  he  said,  "and  an 
idea  I've  had  in  my  mind  for  some  time 
matured  on  the  way  out.  I  hoped  I'd  get  a 
chance  to  see  you.  You're  not  in  a  hurry, 
are  you  ? " 

"  No,"  said  Prentiss,  coldly,  eyeing  him  dis- 
trustfully. 

"  I  suppose  you  know  I'm  not  a  poor  man," 
continued  Chadwick,  smiling  pleasantly. 

The  younger  man  made  no  answer.  He 
suspected  the  other  was  planning  to  bribe  him 
for  some  reason,  which  the  ensuing  conversa- 
tion would  disclose. 

"  I  haven't  the  literary  gift,"  Chadwick  went 
on,  "  but  you  have.  Of  course,  I  have  some 
power  of  expressing  myself  in  speaking,  but  I 
sometimes  fear  it  is  more  emotional  than  in- 
tellectual," he  added,  modestly.  Even  in  the 
twilight  his  companion  could  see  him  flush. 
Like  most  fair  people,  he  coloured  easily. 

"  You  see  I  don't  overestimate  myself,"  he 


The  Washingtonians  193 

continued  with  his  pleasant  laugh,  "  but  I'm 
a  money-maker,  and  I  can  see  with  half  an  eye 
that  you're  not.  Now,  I  should  like  to  pub- 
lish your  poems  for  you.  My  debt  to  the 
poets  is  great.  Certain  single  lines  will  inspire 
me  to  eloquence.  I  often  use  a  verse  or  two 
most  effectively  in  a  speech.  Now,  sir,  I 
should  like  to  pay  part  of  my  debt  by  assisting 
a  new  poet." 

Prentiss  heard  him  with  mingled  emotions, 
in  which  shame  for  his  first  harsh  suspicion 
predominated.  He  saw  that  Chadwick's  im- 
pulse was  generous,  and  he  had  not  supposed 
him  capable  of  such  a  thing.  In  a  moment, 
however,  the  answering  flush  of  generosity  died 
out  of  his  heart  and  left  him  cold.  This  little, 
scheming  pettifogger  presumed  to  be  his 
patron !  This  wire-pulling  politician  who 
would  stop  at  no  deception  !  In  his  mental 
vision  he  saw  him  prowling  like  a  ghoul  about 
the  railroad  track,  and  shadowing  the  victims 
to  the  hospital,  inflaming  their  resentment 
against  the  company  for  his  purse's  profit. 

"  You  are  very  kind,"  he  answered,  with  an 
air  of  subtle  austerity,  "  but  I  must  work  out 
my  own  salvation.  The  day  of  literary  patrons 
is  past,  I  believe.  I  hope  I  can  one  day  say, 
as  Doctor  Johnson  did,  that  the  public  is  my 
patron." 

Chadwick  was  chilled  and  puzzled.  The 
politician  in  him  was  slow  to  see  how  any  one 


194  The  Washingtonians 

could  refuse  to  use  the  influence  of  money. 
His  nature  grasped  more  quickly  than  his 
mind  the  fact  that  he  had  been  snubbed.  But 
Chadwick  could  look  right  through  a  snub, 
and  it  was  the  politician  that  answered. 

"  Why,  of  course,  the  public  will  be  your 
real  patron.  But  even  genius  needs  a  busi- 
ness manager." 

"How  would  a  wife  do?"  asked  Prentiss. 
He  was  beginning  to  appreciate  the  impossi- 
bility of  acerbity  in  the  face  of  such  persistent 
flattery. 

"  I  don't  go  much  on  women  in  business  mat- 
ters myself,"  Chadwick  commented.  "  Now, 
if  you  could  find  such  another  as  Mrs.  Mat- 
thews, or  better,  if  you  could  find  a  young 
girl  who  would  put  all  her  money  in  your 
hands  —  "  His  voice  died  away. 

"  Confound  it !  "  he  thought.  "  What  did 
he  start  talking  about  wives  for,  anyway  ?  I 
suppose  he's  thinking  of  that  little  niece  of 
West's,  but  he  needn't  glare  at  me  so."  He 
concluded  hastily,  his  hand  on  the  knocker, 
"  Well,  Mr.  Prentiss,  if  the  proper  wife  don't 
turn  up,  remember  that  my  offer  still  holds 
good." 

"  Thank  you,"  answered  Prentiss,  icily. 
"  Good  night." 

He  started  off  rapidly,  and  his  figure  soon 
became  merged  in  the  deepening  dusk.  The 
air  was  warm  and  damp,  and  the  crescent  of 


The  Washingtonians  195 

the  new  moon  was  veiled  by  mist.  Virginia 
had  been  gone  six  weeks,  and  he  had  not 
heard  from  her  since  the  first  letter  breaking 
their  engagement.  No  comment  was  made  in 
the  family.  Mrs.  Matthews  had  told  her 
husband  and  father  that  there  had  been  a 
lovers'  quarrel,  and  all  three  forbore  to  mention 
Virginia's  name  to  Prentiss. 

Two  things  only  saved  him  at  this  time  of 
his  unhappiness.  One  was  his  devotion  to  the 
Secretary,  who  placed  the  greatest  dependence 
upon  him.  The  other  relief  he  found  in  his 
work.  He  wrote  untiringly,  with  something 
of  the  instinctive  haste  of  one  who  feels  his 
task  to  be  greater  than  his  time.  He  had  a 
feeling  that  through  his  work  Virginia  would 
be  restored  to  him.  Was  he  not  already  re- 
covering her,  imprisoned  in  some  exquisite 
passage  in  which  he  had  caught  her  charm  ? 
The  printed  pages  would  hold  her  very  spirit. 
Ah,  no  matter  how  far  apart  they  were,  how 
long  they  were  separated,  when  she  read  his 
book  she  would  see  that  she  had  not  escaped 
him. 

He  followed  the  road  to  the  camp  of  the 
gypsies,  and  found  them  gone.  Virginia  had 
made  him  promise  not  to  tell  Mrs.  Matthews 
about  the  cow,  so  that  the  wild,  dark  children 
might  not  be  deprived  of  the  nourishing  milk. 
He  recalled  how  her  fancy  had  run  on  in 
merry  planning  that,  when  the  gypsies  left,  she 


196  The  Washingtonians 

and  David  would  hunt  up  the  cow,  and  drive 
it  home  together  to  astonish  Portia. 

He  turned  from  the  desolate  woods  and 
started  home.  Yet  when  he  reached  the  gate 
of  the  deserted  house,  he  went  in.  He  longed 
for  human  companionship,  becoming  supersti- 
tious in  his  grief,  and  feeling  that  it  would  be 
a  good  omen  to  find  some  soul,  even  though 
it  were  a  poor  runaway  slave,  making  a  home 
in  the  house  where  he  had  first  kissed  his 
sweetheart.  He  stepped  cautiously  to  the 
back  door,  but  saw  no  light  nor  heard  any 
sound.  The  door  yielded  to  his  touch,  and 
he  went  within  and  struck  a  match.  There 
were  traces  that  the  room  had  been  occupied. 
On  the  table  was  a  candle  burned  down  nearly 
to  the  socket.  He  lighted  it,  and  guessed 
from  the  appearance  of  the  place  that  the  fugi- 
tives had  been  surprised,  and  fled  before  they 
had  quite  completed  their  preparations  for 
departure.  There  was  a  lunch  packed,  a  roll 
of  clothes  on  an  old  broken  chair,  and  on  the 
table  a  bundle  tied  up  in  a  bandanna  handker- 
chief. The  flickering  flame  of  the  candle 
lighted  a  bit  of  gold  near  the  handkerchief. 
It  was  the  clasp  to  a  necklace.  He  lifted  the 
beads  with  a  trembling  hand,  almost  unable  to 
believe  the  evidence  of  his  eyes.  It  was  the 
string  of  coral  Countess  Polonski  had  given  to 
Virginia.  The  clasp  was  broken.  She  had 
worn  it  last  on  their  walk,  and  she  must  have 


The  Washingtonians  197 

overlooked  the  fact  that  she  had  lost  it,  think- 
ing she  had  probably  misplaced  it.  The 
negroes  had  probably  found  it  on  the  verandah 
the  morning  after  they  had  been  there. 

He  sat  down  in  one  of  the  crazy  chairs. 
The  place  was  no  longer  desolate.  Had  not 
the  wretched  slaves  found  refuge  here  ?  How 
kindly  the  bare  walls,  although  the  corners 
were  dark  with  dust  and  cobwebs  !  Strange 
that  he  should  be  sitting  here  of  all  places 
in  the  world,  with  her  little  necklace  in  his 
hands. 

General  Matthews,  entering  the  library,  was 
surprised  to  find  Senator  Chadwick  there  in 
earnest  conversation  with  the  Secretary.  It 
was  only  yesterday  that  he  had  called  to  see 
Portia.  Fearing  that  he  intruded  on  a  private 
conversation,  Matthews  made  a  pretence  of 
hunting  for  a  book  on  the  table,  and  then 
started  to  leave  the  room. 

Chadwick,  who  always  affected  to  be  uncon- 
scious of  any  political  difference  between  West 
and  his  son-in-law,  detained  him. 

"  Don't  go,  general.  We  need  your  level 
head.  Your  father  will  not  look  at  politics  in 
a  practical  way." 

Matthews  sat  down  near  the  door.  "  No," 
he  said,  smiling  coldly,  "  I  fear  he  is  too  much 
a  statesman  to  be  a  politician,  and  I'm  too 
much  of  a  soldier.  So  deal  gently  with  us, 
Mr.  Chadwick." 


198  The  Washingtonians 

The  other's  face  coloured  ever  so  slightly, 
but  he  retained  his  pleasant  expression.  He 
was  about  to  reply  when  the  Secretary  inter- 
rupted him. 

"  I  do  not  think  Mr.  Matthews  is  inter- 
ested in  the  matter." 

"  Then  so  much  the  better,  my  dear  sir," 
cried  Chadwick,  "  for  we  shall  then  hear  an 
unprejudiced  opinion.  The  condition  is  this. 
The  Ohio  Republicans  are  setting  up  a  howl 
because  one  of  your  father's  appointees,  a  man 
by  the  name  of  Jenkins,  is  retained  in  office, 
although  he  is  opposed  to  the  government. 
He  consorts  openly  with  men  who  are  doing 
all  they  can  to  hinder  the  prosecution  of  the 
war.  The  War  Republicans  want  his  place 
for  a  man  named  Wilson.  Your  father  has 
a  good  excuse  for  removing  him,  and  at  the 
same  time  falling  in  with  the  wishes  of  his 
party.  I  have  been  trying  to  point  out  to 
him  what  a  good  opportunity  this  is." 

West  drew  a  long  sigh  of  irritation.  Chad- 
wick  offended  his  fastidiousness.  He  gave 
him  a  haughty  and  silencing  look,  and  con- 
tinued the  conversation  himself. 

"  I  have  been  assured  by  reliable  and  un- 
prejudiced friends  —  " 

"  Friends  are  always  prejudiced,"  put  in 
Chadwick,  smiling. 

"  That  this  Jenkins,"  continued  the  Secre- 
tary, "  has  discharged  his  duties  faithfully  and 


The  Washingtonians  199 

well,  and  I  have  no  proof  that  he  is  hostile  to 
the  government." 

"  You  don't  need  proof  in  politics,"  per- 
sisted Chadwick.  "  Damn  a  man  with  a  sus- 
picion and  he  is  in  your  power."  His  bright 
eyes,  full  of  humour,  sought  Matthews's 
glance.  He  kept  flicking  his  gloves  over  the 
palm  of  his  hand.  His  nervousness  never 
seemed  due  to  anxiety,  but  rather  to  constant 
alertness. 

For  the  first  time  Matthews  felt  some  sym- 
pathy with  him.  It  was  no  easy  task  to 
manage  West,  who  persisted  in  regarding  him- 
self as  the  one  man  to  direct  matters. 

"  My  advice  would  be  for  Mr.  West  to  look 
well  into  the  matter  at  once,"  he  said,  "  and 
if  a  thorough  investigation  proves  the  fellow 
guilty,  I'd  send  him  to  the  right-about  quick 
enough  and  put  in  the  man  my  friends  wanted. 
Of  course,  if  he  weren't  guilty  I'd  let  him  stay 
even  if  that  alone  cost  me  the  endorsement  of 
the  State  convention." 

"  This  matter  has  nothing  to  do  with  me, 
personally,"  rejoined  the  Secretary.  "  I  have 
presented  myself  as  a  candidate  to  the  people. 
They  know  me  and  my  work.  If  they  think 
best  to  honour  me  I  shall  be  most  grateful. 
If  not,  then  without  resentment  I  shall  soon 
retire  to  private  life.  I  may  mention,  Mr. 
Matthews,  as  you  do  not  know  all  the  detail 
of  this  circumstance,  that  this  man,  Wilson, 


2oo  The  Washingtonians 

owns  the  'Journal.  I  have  no  wish  to  manage 
newspapers.  It  is  true,  I  admit  it  frankly,  that 
I  was  at  one  time  strongly  tempted  to  remove 
Jenkins  because  I  was  told  he  openly  sym- 
pathised with  those  treacherous  Northerners 
who  obstructed  the  prosecution  of  the  war  for 
their  own  private  ends.  And  now  speaking  to 
you  both  privately,  I  may  say  that  I  have  not 
yet  determined  just  what  to  do  with  this  man, 
as,  despite  the  assurances  of  his  friends,  I  sus- 
pect him.  If  he  is  guilty  I  shall  punish  him 
as  severely  as  it  is  in  my  power  to  do.  How- 
ever, I  refuse  to  take  up  the  case  now.  I  shall 
not  weigh  his  case  with  an  eye  to  my  own 
political  advancement.  When  I  act  in  the 
matter  it  will  be  upon  public  considerations, 
not  personal.  I  had  not  intended  to  take  up 
this  case  for  a  couple  of  months  at  the  least,  as 
there  are  others  more  pressing  for  immediate 
attention.  I  think  if  you  will  excuse  me  I  will 
return  to  my  work.  I  beg  of  you  do  not  hurry, 
Senator,  as  I  know  my  family  will  enjoy  a  visit 
from  you.  And  do  not  let  us  refer  to  this 
matter  again.  I  can't  consent  to  the  proposi- 
tion my  friends  have  made  to  me  through  you. 
The  affair  has  been  unpleasant  and  has  fretted 
me.  Good  night." 

Chadwick  sat  silent  for  some  moments,  a 
half-smile  playing  on  his  features.  At  last  he 
looked  toward  Matthews.  "  The  affair  has 
been  unpleasant  and  has  fretted  him,"  he  re- 


The  Washingtonians  201 

peated.  "  I  wonder  if  he  knows  it's  making 
me  turn  gray  !  Is  Mrs.  Matthews  in  ?  I  have 
a  paper  for  her." 

"  She's  assisting  at  some  reception  in  town," 
Matthews  replied,  "but  I'm  going  in  for  her 
about  ten  and  I'll  give  her  the  paper." 

"  Thank  you,  if  you  will  be  so  kind,"  an- 
swered Chadwick. 

They  talked  on  various  matters  for  a  quarter 
of  an  hour,  and  then  he  rose  to  go. 

"  But  the  paper  you  wanted  to  leave  with 
me  for  my  wife,"  his  host  reminded  him. 

"  Oh,  to  be  sure,"  he  answered.  He  drew 
out  a  package  of  papers  from  his  waistcoat 
pocket  and  glanced  them  over.  "  I  haven't  it 
here,  after  all.  How  stupid  of  me !  Well, 
never  mind.  It  wasn't  a  matter  of  much  im- 
portance. I'll  send  it  through  the  mail.  Just 
as  much  obliged  to  you." 

After  his  departure  Matthews  pondered 
over  the  social  conditions  which  made  it 
proper  for  a  woman  to  be  on  confidential 
terms  politically  with  a  man  of  whom  her  hus- 
band disapproved.  He  knew  well  enough  that 
Chadwick  had  that  paper  among  those  he 
glanced  over,  but  did  not  choose  to  let  him 
have  it.  Portia  had  often  told  him  he  was 
lacking  in  humour,  and  he  tried  now  to  find  a 
cynical  amusement  in  a  condition  of  American 
life  that  accorded  a  wife  every  liberty  and  yet 
brought  no  criticism  upon  herself  nor  roused 


ioi  The  Washingtonians 

her  husband's  jealousy.  But  he  found  there 
was  no  real  humour  for  him  in  it  and  he  could 
have  groaned.  He  wished  he  were  back  on 
the  field  with  his  brigade,  but  he  was  not 
strong  enough  as  yet  and,  moreover,  he  was 
not  needed.  The  war  was  nearing  its  end  and 
troops  were  being  ordered  north.  It  had 
dragged  on  so  wearily  that  few  could  accept 
the  fact  when  it  really  occurred.  He  had  tried 
in  vain  to  convince  either  the  Secretary  or 
Portia  of  the  significance  of  certain  field- 
movements. 

He  went  to  the  buffet  in  the  dining-room 
and  poured  himself  out  a  glass  of  whiskey  and 
drank  it.  Then  he  lighted  a  cigar  and  sat 
down  to  read  until  it  was  time  to  go  for  his 
wife. 


Chapter   XV 

SENATOR  CHADWICK  drove  at  once 
to  Willard's  Hotel,  where  he  was  stop- 
ping. It  sheltered  a  strangely  mingled  society. 
There  at  almost  any  hour  of  the  day  were  to 
be  found  prominent  men,  and  there  was  always 
a  stream  of  people  passing  between  Willard's 
and  the  White  House.  Here  military  men 
met  to  talk  with  each  other.  Here  were  half 
a  dozen  or  more  generals  off  duty,  some  of 
them  attired  in  citizen's  dress.  In  the  bar- 
room lingered  the  well-dressed  adventurer  and 
gambler  with  the  smooth  manner  and  sharp 
glance  of  his  kind.  From  the  windows  of  the 
parlour  on  the  second  floor,  where  the  mild 
air  was  blowing  the  lace  curtains,  the  defiant, 
musical  tinkle  of  a  piano  greeted  Chadwick's 
ears.  Some  spirited  Southern  woman  was 
playing  "  Dixie."  He  went  to  the  reading- 
room  and  glanced  down  the  social  column  of 
the  local  paper.  There  were  few  things  going 
on  that  evening  and  most  of  the  names  were 
strange  to  him.  It  was  not  likely  that  Mrs. 
Matthews  would  be  at'any  of  the  places  men- 
tioned. He  was  much  perplexed.  His  real 
203 


204  The  Washingtonians 

motive  in  calling  on  Mr.  West  that  evening 
had  been  to  see  her.  He  wished  now  that  he 
had  been  frank  with  Matthews  and  asked  him 
directly  where  his  wife  was,  stating  that  he 
wished  to  speak  to  her  on  a  turn  in  the  polit- 
ical situation.  It  was  not  the  first  time  his 
oversubtlety  had  defeated  his  end. 

"  I  must  learn  to  be  more  direct,"  he  mused. 
"  I  must  cultivate  it.  If  I  don't  I'll  lose  per- 
sonal force,  and  I've  reached  a  position  now 
where  I  can  afford  to  state  an  opinion  posi- 
tively. I  wish  I  were  more  brutal.  Why 
didn't  I  ask  outright  where  I  could  find  his 
wife  instead  of  beating  about  the  bush  and 
getting  nothing?" 

He  decided  to  go  over  to  his  club  and  learn 
the  gossip  of  the  day  and  what  the  fashionable 
world  was  doing.  He  folded  the  paper  neatly, 
and  as  he  returned  it  to  the  pile  from  which  he 
had  drawn  it  a  headline  on  the  front  page 
caught  his  attention.  It  announced  a  recep- 
tion at  the  Russian  minister's.  Owing  to  the 
importance  of  the  affair  it  had  been  given  space 
on  the  first  page. 

Chadwick,  leaning  both  hands  on  the  edge  of 
the  table,  re-read  the  announcement.  He  had 
received  an  invitation  and  destroyed  it.  He 
had  his  own  reasons  for  having  refused  to  go. 

There  he  would  find  Mrs.  Matthews.  He 
went  up  to  his  room  and  dressed  himself  care- 
fully in  his  evening  clothes.  His  face  looked 


The  Washingtonians  205 

white  in  the  mirror,  his  fine  nose  a  little  pinched 
like  a  sick  person's.  Excitement  acted  upon 
him  like  poison. 

"  This  won't  do,"  he  said  aloud.  He  rang 
the  bell  and  had  a  small  glass  of  brandy  brought 
to  him,  and  took  a  third  of  it.  He  hated 
the  taste,  but  it  brought  back  his  colour  and 
did  away  with  that  pinched  expression  which 
distressed  him. 

The  Polonskis  were  not  far  away.  They 
had  taken  an  old-fashioned  furnished  home  on 
Lafayette  Square.  It  was  built  of  bricks  and 
painted  light  yellow,  with  an  iron  balcony 
across  the  front. 

He  flung  his  cape  over  his  shoulders.  Mili- 
tary rule  had  set  the  fashion,  and  even  civilians 
were  wearing  capes  of  broadcloth.  He  crossed 
the  park  leisurely,  for  he  did  not  wish  to  arrive 
too  early.  Neither  did  he  delay  overmuch, 
fearing  that  if  General  Matthews  arrived  before 
him  he  might  find  it  difficult  to  speak  to  Mrs. 
Matthews  alone. 

Lafayette  Square  was  then  surrounded  by  a 
high  picket  fence  with  four  gates.  At  twelve 
o'clock  a  policeman  went  around  and  sent 
every  one  home  and  locked  up  for  the  night. 

He  noticed  several  soldiers  sitting  with  their 
sweethearts  on  benches,  and  he  bestowed  on 
them  a  passing  contempt.  Somehow  they  re- 
minded him  of  the  days  when  he  was  a  clerk 
in  the  combined  dry  goods  and  grocery  store 


206  The  Washingtonians 

of  his  native  town,  and  used  to  take  his  girl 
for  a  stroll  in  the  courthouse  park  of  a  summer 
evening.  She  was  pretty  and  foolish,  and  bored 
by  his  ambitious  plans,  so  that  she  discarded 
him  for  the  owner  of  the  livery  stable.  Ever 
since  he  had  been  too  busy  to  think  of  women 
again. 

The  hospitable  lights  of  the  house  to  which 
he  was  going  greeted  him  when  he  was  still 
half  the  length  of  the  park  away.  A  woman 
in  a  light  dress  stepped  out  on  the  balcony  a 
moment.  Carriages  rolled  up  the  street,  paused, 
then  went  on.  The  door  opened  to  admit  the 
guests.  He  reached  the  gate  of  the  square 
and  lingered  by  it  some  moments,  struggling 
to  overcome  his  depression.  His  early  strug- 
gles with  poverty  made  a  display  of  luxury 
and  fashion  appalling  to  him,  and  he  struggled 
vainly  to  feel  at  ease  in  a  society  whose  ap- 
proval he  had  long  sought.  At  forty  years  of 
age  he  had  learned  to  dance.  Still  not  even 
the  acquirement  of  that  art  had  given  him  the 
unconscious  ease  he  envied  in  others.  He 
remembered  a  remark  he  had  once  heard 
Prentiss  make,  —  that  students  who  had  not 
the  freedom  of  a  library  when  children  were 
seldom  able  to  acquire  a  literary  atmosphere 
through  their  college  training.  So  it  was  with 
him  in  a  different  way.  He  had  not  the  social 
atmosphere. 

As  he  went  up-stairs  to  the  dressing-room 


The  Washingtonians  207 

he  encountered  Countess  Polonski  coming 
down.  She  shook  hands  cordially  with  him. 

"  Scarcely  any  one  has  come  yet.  I  gave 
my  place  to  Mrs.  Matthews  and  slipped  away 
about  half  an  hour  ago  to  lie  down ;  I  was  so 
tired.  Are  you  quite  well  ?  I  think  you  look 
a  little  pale."  She  lingered  with  her  hand  on 
the  balustrade,  smiling  at  him.  She,  too,  was 
pale,  and  unconsciously  she  sighed. 

"  I  think  you've  grown  thin,"  he  said, 
abruptly. 

At  that  she  laughed.  "  How  unflattering 
we  are  to  each  other !  I  know  you  want  to 
see  Mrs.  Matthews.  She  is  anxious  to  see 
you.  I  will  send  her  up  to  that  balcony  off 
the  library.  You  may  have  noticed  it  from 
the  outside.  It  is  so  warm  out  you  won't 
catch  cold.  I  can  scarcely  wait  for  spring  to 
come  so  that  I  can  train  up  vines  and  have 
hanging-baskets.  Then  I  shall  sit  out  there 
mornings  with  my  sewing.  I  shall  have  honey- 
suckle, to  see  if  I  can't  entice  the  humming- 
birds to  visit  me.  I  haven't  seen  one  of  the 
little  things  since  I  was  a  child.  Here  are 
some  people  coming  in.  I  must  go  on  down." 

He  did  not  go  out  on  the  balcony,  but  re- 
mained in  the  library.  Prudence  forbade  him 
sitting  out-of-doors  at  that  season  of  the  year, 
even  if  the  air  were  mild,  and  he  was  inspired 
by  no  romantic  feeling  for  Mrs.  Matthews  to 
encourage  him  to  run  any  risk. 


2o8  The  Washingtonians 

She  came  in  eagerly  a  little  later.  "  I 
thought  I  never  could  get  away  from  Admiral 
Peale.  Senator  Chadwick,  if  you  ever  start 
telling  funny  stories  to  a  woman,  and  she 
makes  no  comment,  but  just  smiles  and 
smiles,  you  may  be  sure  it's  a  smile  of  des- 
peration. What  did  you  think  of  my  plan  ? 
Why  didn't  you  write  me  a  note  in  reply? 
Are  you  like  Talleyrand,  and  believe  in  writ- 
ing no  letters  yourself,  and  keeping  all  the 
letters  of  your  friends?  "  She  laid  her  flowers 
down  on  the  count's  large  writing  table  in  the 
centre  of  the  room,  and,  sitting  down,  began  to 
draw  off  her  gloves.  "  Do  you  know  I  never 
can  think  clearly  with  gloves  on  ?  They  seem 
in  some  artificial  way  to  constrain  my  mind. 
And  anyway  I  want  to  look  over  the  paper 
with  you  and  see  your  corrections." 

"  Your  feeling  about  wearing  gloves  reminds 
me  of  one  of  my  friends  who  is  obliged  to 
keep  his  glasses  on  in  bed  in  the  dark  if  he 
wishes  to  think  about  anything  at  that  time," 
Chadwick  returned. 

He  drew  a  paper  from  his  pocket  and 
handed  it  to  her.  The  handwriting  was  her 
own.  "  I  called  at  your  home  earlier  this 
evening.  I  had  forgotten  you  would  be  here. 
I  didn't  answer  your  letter  because  of  a  mascu- 
line prejudice  that  women  are  careless  and  apt 
to  leave  things  lying  around." 

"  I    forgive    you,"    said     Mrs.     Matthews. 


The  Washingtonians  209 

"  But  what  do  you  think  of  this  ? "  She 
spread  the  sheet  of  paper  open  on  the  table. 
"How  many  changes  you  suggest!"  Her 
tone  was  one  of  displeasure.  "  I  was  entirely 
satisfied  with  it  myself,"  she  added,  looking 
up  at  him.  "  I  did  not  expect  such  correc- 
tions." 

"  If  you  wish  undiscriminating  approval," 
he  said,  smiling,  "  you  should  not  have  con- 
sulted me." 

There  were  laughter  and  voices  in  the  hall, 
and  a  fluttering  of  dresses. 

"  Are  you  up  here,  too,  Mrs.  Matthews  ?  " 
cried  a  girl.  "  We  are  all  coming  in  here  to 
have  our  supper,  as  there's  a  regular  jam 
down-stairs." 

Mrs.  Matthews  rose,  with  the  paper  at 
which  she  had  been  looking  in  her  hand. 
"  Let  us  all  sit  around  this  table,"  she  pro- 
posed. 

"  That  is  sensible,"  spoke  Count  Polonski, 
who  was  one  of  the  party.  "  Then  we  shall 
have  something  to  rest  our  coffee-cups  and 
saucers  on.  I  ran  away  for  half  an  hour.  I 
told  madame  I  had  to  slip  away  for  a  rest.  I 
am  glad  to  see  you,  Senator  Chadwick.  Will 
it  be  too  warm  if  I  close  the  window  ? " 

A  young  man  in  the  group  hastened  to  close 
it  for  him,  and  Polonski  sat  down  in  an  easy 
chair.  He  was  in  full  diplomatic  dress,  and 
his  chest  was  resplendent  with  jewelled  medals. 


2io  The  Washingtonians 

"  Observe  me  all  of  you,"  he  remarked, 
smiling.  "  I  am  a  sick  man,  and  not  able  to 
remain  down-stairs  longer  without  rest,  if  I 
would.  I  spent  last  night  in  my  dressing- 
gown,  locked  up  in  Lafayette  Square,  like  a 
sheep  in  a  pen.  You  see  our  charming  bal- 
cony ?  I  sent  my  secretary  away,  and  stepped 
out  to  get  the  fresh  air  after  an  evening  of 
work.  It  was  a  pleasant  night,  and  the  trees 
in  the  park  beckoned  invitingly.  I  looked  up 
and  down  the  street.  There  was  no  one  in 
sight.  A  theory  of  mine  is  that  the  indulgence 
of  one's  impulses,  when  governed  by  a  delicate 
propriety,  keeps  us  young.  I  buttoned  my 
dressing-gown  more  closely  about  me,  made  a 
dash  across  the  street,  and  entered  the  park. 
I  heard  the  policeman  bawling  out  that  he  was 
going  to  lock  the  gates,  but  as  I  did  not  wish 
then  to  be  persuaded  to  leave  I  made  no 
answer." 

"  How  did  you  get  out  ?  "  inquired  Chad- 
wick,  not  entirely  sympathetic.  There  was 
something  indecent  to  his  fancy  in  Polonski 
parading  a  public  thoroughfare  in  his  dressing- 
gown.  He  himself  would  have  as  soon 
thought  of  going  in  his  night-shirt! 

"  I  didn't  get  out  until  five  o'clock  this 
morning,  when  I  hailed  a  milkman,  and  per- 
suaded him  to  cross  the  street  and  rouse 
my  household.  I  agreed  to  take  two  gallons 
of  milk  a  day  from  him  !  I  had  attracted  the 


The  Washingtonians  211 

attention  of  a  policeman  some  hours  before,  but 
he  took  the  narrow  view  that  I  was  an  escaped 
lunatic,  and  decided  it  would  be  safer  to  wait 
until  daylight  to  seize  me.  Mrs.  Matthews, 
what  is  that  paper  you  are  holding  against 
your  heart  ?  I  hope  no  enamoured  youth  has 
committed  the  impropriety  of  writing  verses 
to  you.  I  always  feel  particularly  severe  on 
follies  that  I  once  committed  myself.  He 
should  be  exposed.  Senator  Chadwick,  you 
didn't  write  them,  did  you  ?  " 

Mrs.  Matthews,  laughing,  held  the  paper 
above  her  head.  "  If  any  one  can  guess  the 
writer  I'll  show  it  to  you." 

"  It  isn't  poetry,"  cried  some  one.  "  The 
light  shines  through.  It's  in  solid  writing." 

Chadwick  surreptitiously  wiped  the  perspi- 
ration from  his  brow.  He  was  at  a  loss  to 
understand  Mrs.  Matthews's  daring. 

"  But  I  tell  you  it  is  a  poem,"  she  insisted. 
"  It's  written  in  blank  verse.  That's  why  it 
looks  so  solid.  I'll  read  you  the  first  line. 
Now,  listen.  c  When  to  the  sessions  of  sweet, 
silent  thought,  I  — 

"  Shakespeare,"  cried  a  young  gentleman. 

She  admitted  the  imposture.  "  Well,  I'll 
give  it  as  it  really  is,  but  I  blush  to  read  any- 
thing that  so  extols  my  own  virtues." 

"  Of  course  she  won't  read  it  as  it  is,"  spoke 
another.  "  Why  doesn't  some  one  take  it 
from  her? " 


212  The  Washingtonians 

A  dozen  hands  reached  in  playful  earnest 
for  the  paper.  But  she  escaped  them,  and 
darted  out  into  the  hall.  She  had  caught  a 
glimpse  of  a  uniform. 

"You  came  just  in  time  to  save  me,  Tom," 
she  cried,  merrily,  and  unfastening  his  coat  she 
thrust  the  paper  into  his  inner  pocket. 

Polonski  rose,  and  dragged  his  chair  up  to 
the  table.  The  servant  was  coming  with  the 
coffee. 

He  shook  his  finger  at  Chadwick.  "You 
wrote  that  poem.  You  were  the  only  one 
who  really  tried  to  get  it.  But  Matthews 
wasn't  here  to  see  you." 

The  other  longed  to  make  some  brilliant 
retort,  but  he  was  tongue-tied  in  the  presence 
of  the  Russian,  whom  he  hated. 

He  had  had  enough  of  the  reception,  and 
he  went  to  the  dressing-room  to  get  his  hat 
and  cape. 

"Are  you  going  so  soon?"  asked  Mrs. 
Matthews,  as  he  passed.  She  was  looking  up 
into  her  husband's  face,  like  a  girl  in  love,  as 
she  fingered  one  of  the  gold  buttons  of  his 
coat.  "  Wait  a  minute.  Tell  me  when  shall 
I  see  you.  I  am  up  to  my  ears  in  politics, 
Tom.  But  you  are  not  to  be  told  anything, 
because  you  are  so  unsympathetic." 

"  I  will  call  to-morrow  morning,"  answered 
Chadwick,  briefly.  He  got  his  hat  and  coat, 
and  went  down-stairs  and  out  of  the  house. 


The  Washingtonians  213 


He  did  not  say  good-bye  to  his  hostess.  A 
glance  into  the  parlour  showed  him  that  she 
was  surrounded  by  guests.  As  he  walked 
back  across  the  square  to  his  hotel,  his  heart 
burned  within  him.  He  never  left  Polonski 
without  the  feeling  that  in  some  intangible 
way  he  had  been  insulted.  He  had  appre- 
ciated many  a  man's  superior  greatness,  but 
he  had  never  been  made  to  doubt  his  own 
astuteness  before.  The  glance  of  those  pro- 
tuberant gray  eyes  withered  him  by  their  power 
of  scorn.  The  Russian's  cleverness  was  greater 
than  his  own.  He  could  not  make  him  out. 
He  had  no  personal  conceit.  He  knew  well 
his  own  intellectual  limitations,  but  his  confi- 
dence in  his  own  perspicacity  had  been  proved 
by  experience.  His  attitude  toward  people  in 
general  was  naturally  kind  and  gentle.  He 
had  a  timid  temperament  and  endured  agonies 
over  mishaps  that  never  occurred,  yet  he 
always  showed  a  cricket-like  cheerfulness,  and 
never  gave  way  to  discouragement.  When 
speaking  in  the  Senate  or  on  a  public  plat- 
form he  was  transformed  into  a  brilliant  and 
forceful  man,  so  remarkable  was  his  gift  for 
speaking.  Shrewd  as  he  was,  he  harboured 
no  mean  suspicions  against  a  political  enemy, 
and  though  he  did  not  scruple  to  use  tricks 
that  would  have  turned  the  stomach  of  an 
honester  man,  he  had  not  the  slightest  personal 
feeling  of  dislike. 


214  The  Washingtonians 

But  Polonski  instilled  poison  by  his  glance 
of  contempt.  From  hating  him,  Chadwick's 
thoughts,  as  he  walked  feverishly  on,  became 
tinged  with  dislike  even  for  General  Matthews, 
to  whom  he  had  been  entirely  indifferent  a  few 
hours  ago.  A  suspicion  of  Mrs.  Matthews's 
sincerity  rose  in  his  mind,  and  he  thought  her 
daring.  West  himself  was  an  autocrat,  and 
treated  him  as  a  subordinate.  He  had  half 
a  mind  to  leave  him  to  conduct  his  own  cam- 
paign. He  felt  chilly  and  wrapped  his  cape 
closer  about  him,  and  as  he  did  so  he  was 
reminded  of  how  Polonski  was  kept  in  the 
park  all  night.  He  laughed  with  a  sudden 
return  of  good  spirits. 

"  I  wish  he'd  caught  his  death  of  cold,"  he 
muttered. 

The  picture  his  imagination  drew  of  Po- 
lonski dying  restored  his  naturally  pleas- 
ant humour,  and  he  stepped  on  more  jauntily. 
As  he  passed  a  policeman  he  bestowed  on  that 
officer  a  look  of  entire  friendliness.  Perhaps 
he  was  the  man  who  took  the  narrow  view 
that  the  shivering  minister  was  insane. 

Several  of  his  friends  were  waiting  for  him, 
and  he  took  them  up  to  his  room  and  ordered 
drinks  and  cigars.  For  himself  he  had  a  cup 
of  coffee,  and  said  that  he  was  ill.  The  conver- 
sation became  excited  and  earnest,  and  although 
he  listened  attentively  his  thought  still  ran  on 
the  problem  Polonski  presented  to  his  mind. 


The  Washingtonians  215 

He  ran  over  his  acquaintances,  some  of  them 
men  of  more  power  and  achievement  than  the 
Russian,  but  in  him  he  felt  for  the  first  time 
the  greater  intricacy  of  an  older  civilisation. 
By  contrast  his  American  astuteness  seemed 
superficial.  This  was  all  the  more  galling  as 
perceived  against  a  background  of  inherited 
conceit  and  prejudice  on  his  own  part  against 
foreigners.  He  did  not  formulate  this  clearly 
to  himself;  it  was  only  a  vague  resentment, 
and  he  would  have  indignantly  repudiated  an 
analysis  so  damaging  to  his  self-love  and 
patriotism. 

The  Russian  was  a  great  diplomat,  and 
Chadwick  saw  himself  in  contrast  a  politician 
and  a  petty  lawyer. 

"  But  I  will  get  there  yet,"  he  told  himself, 
"  I  will  get  there  yet."  Had  he  not  already 
risen  to  his  present  position  from  a  clerkship 
in  a  grocery-store  ?  Let  him  once  gain  the 
reputation  of  having  made  a  President,  and 
any  office  would  be  at  his  command. 

When  General  Matthews  removed  his  coat 
that  night  he  took  out  the  paper  his  wife  had 
thrust  into  his  pocket,  and  handed  it  to  her. 

"  Oh,  thank  you,"  she  said,  "  I  wouldn't 
have  let  those  people  see  it  for  anything  in 
the  world."  She  crossed  over,  and  locked 
it  up  in  her  desk. 

He  was  bitterly  disappointed.  He  knew 
that  the  paper  must  be  the  one  Chadwick  had 


2i6  The  Washingtonians 

avoided  entrusting  to  him,  but  he  expected 
that  his  wife  would  at  least  show  him  sufficient 
respect  to  explain  the  matter  to  him,  even  if 
she  did  not  show  him  the  manuscript. 

They  had  stayed  later  at  the  Polonskis'  than 
they  had  intended,  and  the  negro  who  was  his 
personal  attendant  had  gone  to  bed. 

"  Never  mind,  it  isn't  worth  while  calling 
him,"  said  Portia.  "  I  can  help  you  undress. 
Sit  down  in  the  chair  and  I'll  draw  off  your 
boots." 

He  could  not  bend  over  without  pain  on 
account  of  the  wound  in  his  side.  Her  ser- 
vice humiliated  him.  What  did  it  signify 
when  she  did  not  accord  him  her  confidence? 

The  light  fell  on  her  bending  head,  on  the 
white  nape  of  neck  revealed  by  the  loose  col- 
lar of  her  dressing-sack.  She  tugged  vigorously 
at  his  boots. 

"  You  needn't  tell  me  you're  not  vain,"  she 
cried,  a  bright  colour  in  her  face  from  the  exer- 
tion. "  You  wear  as  tight  boots  as  you  can 
to  make  your  feet  seem  small.  But  they're 
not  small,  Tom.  So  !  Do  you  remember 
what  delicate  hands  and  feet  La  Cerf  had  in 
spite  of  his  height?  I've  been  told  they  were 
an  Indian  characteristic." 

"  I've  never  been  able  to  understand  why  he 
enlisted  so  suddenly,"  he  answered.  "  I'd  been 
at  him  for  months.  It  seemed  strange  he  didn't 
come  to  say  good-bye  to  me." 


The  Washingtonians  217 

"  How  foolish  of  you  to  expect  anything  like 
a  recognition  of  friendship  in  an  Indian,"  Por- 
tia retorted.  "  I  don't  think  he  could  even 
understand  what  it  meant.  He  liked  you  be- 
cause you  didn't  offend  him,  and  he  didn't 
know  that  it  would  have  been  only  common 
decency  on  his  part  to  see  you  before  going. 
You  know  I  never  overestimated  him.  And 
if  he  dies  on  the  field  it  will  be  a  much  more 
decent  ending  for  him  than  to  come  back  and 
go  off  with  consumption.  The  last  time  I  saw 
him  he  had  a  cough,  and  his  cheek-bones  were 
more  prominent  than  ever.  You  notice,  and 
you  will  see  that  as  soon  as  civilisation  gets  hold 
of  an  Indian  consumption  sets  in  or  his  eye- 
sight goes." 

"  Nonsense,  my  dear,"  cried  Matthews, 
heartily.  "  Women  are  so  prone  to  make  the 
incident  general.  You've  probably  heard  of 
one  case." 

"  Well,  I  notice  that  men  are  always  indulg- 
ing in  generalities  about  women,"  she  answered. 
She  was  too  indifferent  to  his  opinion  to  feel 
any  inclination  to  repose  confidences  in  him, 
and  to-night  in  particular  she  was  too  much 
absorbed  in  other  matters  to  take  the  trouble 
to  tell  him  of  her  last  interview  with  La  Cerf. 
Her  father's  antagonism  to  Matthews  had  had 
a  subtle  and  evil  influence  on  her  attitude 
toward  her  husband. 

He  was  so  expeditious  in  making  his  toilet 


a  1 8  The  Washingtonians 

that  it  had  been  his  custom  to  read  aloud  while 
she  undressed  with  more  deliberation. 

"  What  shall  we  read  to-night  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  I  wanted  to  ask  you  if  you  could  let  me 
have  some  money,"  she  said.  "  It  is  nice  of 
you  to  want  to  read  to  me,  dear,  but  it  would 
be  foolish  for  me  to  pretend  to  be  interested 
when  my  mind  is  so  full  of  father." 

"  Was  that  what  Chadwick  wanted  of  you  ?  " 
he  asked,  contemptuously.  "  What  a  white- 
livered  little  lawyer  he  is  !  Well,  none  of  my 
money  will  stick  to  his  fingers  if  I  have  any- 
thing to  say  about  it.  Why  didn't  he  come 
and  ask  me  for  it  like  a  man  ?  I  hate  your 
men  who  get  at  other  fellows  by  flattering  their 
wives.  I'm  sorry  if  I  hurt  your  feelings,  Por- 
tia, but  I  don't  like  this  man,  and  didn't  from 
the  start." 

"  I  am  not  aware  that  your  personal  liking, 
nor  mine  either,  for  that  matter,  is  concerned 
in  this.  Senator  Chadwick  is  father's  political 
manager.  It  should  have  been  your  pleasure, 
as  well  as  an  honour  and  duty,  to  have  man- 
aged it  yourself.  But  don't  let  us  talk  of  your 
attitude  in  that  particular  matter  any  more.  I 
am  sick  to  death  of  your  sentimental  reasons." 
She  let  down  her  hair,  and  began  to  brush  it  in 
front  of  the  mirror. 

His  heart  sank  as  he  watched  her.  Would 
the  time  ever  come  when  her  mind  would  be 
free  from  ambition,  when  intruding  thoughts  of 


The  Washingtonians  219 

the  world  would  not  destroy  the  sacredness  of 
their  moments  alone  together,  when  she  would 
blush  and  brighten  because  of  his  admiring 
eyes,  and  take  a  womanly  gladness  in  her  own 
fairness  for  his  sake  ?  But  she  accepted  beauty, 
gift  of  the  gods  that  it  was,  quite  impersonally, 
and  considered  it  as  necessary  to  her  success  as 
good-breeding  and  tact. 

"  Well  ?  "  she  said,  impatiently. 

"  Nothing,"  he  answered.  "  I  was  merely 
reflecting  on  myself  as  a  sentimentalist." 

She  sat  down,  brush  in  hand,  her  hair  falling 
about  her  shoulders.  "  Tom,  dear,  why  won't 
you  show  some  common  sense  and  not  irritate 
me  so  ?  For  instance,  how  ridiculous  of  you 
to  abuse  Mr.  Chadwick.  How  could  he  go 
to  you  for  money  when  you  have  openly  ex- 
pressed your  lack  of  sympathy  with  us  ?  That 
paper  to-night  had  nothing  to  do  with  money, 
so  don't  be  so  suspicious.  But  he  did  say  to 
me  some  days  ago  that  he  wanted  to  hire  im- 
portant men  to  '  stump  '  the  State.  The  party 
has  already  put  up  considerable  money,  but 
this  is  to  be  extra.  I  told  him  that  I  would 
see  he  had  the  money.  I  had  no  doubt  that 
you  would  give  it  to  me.  It  is  the  first  time 
you  have  ever  refused  any  request  of  mine.  I 
wouldn't  ask  it  of  you  if  you  couldn't  afford  it. 
I  am  willing  to  deny  myself  for  years  if  it  is 
lost." 

"  You  know  I  don't  care  about  the  money," 


220  The  Washingtonians 

he  cried.  "It's  the  principle  of  the  matter. 
Your  father  hasn't  the  ghost  of  a  chance.  I 
don't  say  this  for  malice,  as  you  seem  to  think, 
but  because  it's  my  honest  conviction.  I  have 
never  blamed  you,  dearest,  for  being  mistaken. 
You're  shut  in  by  a  lot  of  people  who,  because 
they  like  and  admire  you,  think  you  ought  to 
be  in  the  White  House  by  rights.  They're 
sincere  enough.  But  neither  you  nor  they  have 
any  idea  how  the  people  feel.  And  it's  the 
great  mass  that's  going  to  count,  not  the  aristo- 
cratic few.  You  go  down  among  the  soldiers 
as  I  have  and  find  out  how  they  feel.  They're 
for  the  President  to  a  man.  The  people  at 
home  are  going  to  vote  with  the  soldiers.  As 
for  giving  Chadwick  any  money,  the  thought 
gags  me."  He  paused  a  moment,  and  then 
continued  in  a  quieter  tone :  "  Your  father  is 
too  much  of  an  autocrat,  and  has  no  gift  of 
personal  sympathy  to  fit  him  for  the  office  to 
which  he  aspires.  He  would  be  a  great  Chief 
Justice,  but  no  President." 

"  You  make  things  out  the  way  you  wish," 
she  cried.  "  You  are  blinded  to  his  virtues 
because  of  your  infatuation  for  the  present 
man  in  power.  How  you  can  be  blinded  to 
his  gaucheries,  his  vulgarity,  his  Hoosier  ap- 
pearance, and  —  " 

He  turned  on  her  with  passion.  "  Hush, 
Portia,  we  shall  never  know  a  greater  and  a 
better  man.  Have  you  forgotten  how  angry 


The  Washingtonians  221 

you  were  with  Virginia  when  the  child  cried 
and  said  that  she  would  willingly  give  all  she 
had  to  make  his  kind  face  look  less  sad  ?  He 
makes  us  all  feel  that  way." 

A  faintness  came  over  her.  Then  she 
rallied,  and  anger  filled  her  heart. 

"  You  are  very  young,  Tom,"  she  said, 
contemptuously,  "  you  make  me  think  of  a 
schoolboy  passing  through  his  period  of  hero- 
worship." 

He  was  stung  and  humiliated  by  her  air  of 
superior  judgment ;  though  he  knew  he  was 
in  the  right  he  felt  hopelessly  put  in  the 
wrong.  He  could  retort  that  her  own  infatu- 
ation for  her  father  blinded  her  to  the  great- 
ness of  a  greater  man,  but  he  sickened  at  the 
thought  of  bickering  with  his  wife. 

It  was  long  before  Portia  slept  that  night. 
She  had  drawn  aside  the  curtains  at  the  window 
near  the  bed,  and  she  lay  staring  out  at  the 
starlit  sky  and  listened  to  her  husband's  deep 
breathing.  He  had  settled  a  fortune  on  her 
when  they  were  married,  and  she  had  invested 
most  of  it  in  land,  but  a  considerable  sum  still 
remained  in  the  bank,  and  she  could  apply  it 
to  campaign  purposes.  Love  of  possession 
was  so  strong  in  her,  however,  that  she  pre- 
ferred Matthews  to  give  her  the  money  although 
she  was  forced  to  admit  the  unreason  of  this 
to  herself. 

So  deep  was  her  irritation  that  she  felt  an 


222  The  Washingtonians 

aversion  even  to  being  near  him,  and  she  rose 
and  sat  down  in  the  chair  by  the  window. 

Matthews  was  not  asleep.  "  Don't  be  fool- 
ish," he  said,  irritably. 

"  Thank  you,"  she  answered,  icily. 

He  turned  again  on  his  pillow  and  tried  to 
sleep.  But  through  his  shut  lids  he  seemed 
to  see  that  lovely,  obstinate  figure  by  the  win- 
dow. How  perverse  she  was,  how  perverse  ! 
The  fire  was  nearly  out,  the  room  was  cold. 
Splendid  as  her  general  health  was  she  had 
delicate  lungs.  He  fretted. 

"  I  certainly  wouldn't  think  of  sitting  there 
without  a  wrapper  or  slippers." 

She  made  no  reply. 

He  could  not  bear  it.     He  sat  up  in  bed. 

"  My  darling,"  he  cried, "  don't  torment  me 
so  !  If  you  want  the  money  you  can  have  it." 

She  did  not  move.  She  was  at  once  relieved 
and  ashamed.  She  had  forced  him  to  go 
against  his  judgment  by  an  entirely  feminine 
device,  and  her  nature  was  large  enough  for 
her  to  appreciate  his  generosity  and  not  to 
hold  him  in  contempt  as  weak.  Love  of  pos- 
session struggled  with  her  pride. 

He  rose  and  put  on  his  dressing-gown. 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  I  am  going  to  start  up  the  fire,"  he  an- 
swered, "  if  you  are  so  foolish  as  to  insist  upon 
sitting  up  in  the  cold." 

She  watched   him   silently.     He  made   the 


The  Washingtonians  223 

fire  with  difficulty  because  of  the  stiffness 
resultant  from  his  wound.  In  spite  of  herself 
his  attitude  toward  her  father  had  impressed 
her.  What  if  he  should  be  in  the  right  ?  She 
recalled  her  own  premonition  of  ill-fortune  the 
night  of  the  President's  visit  to  the  theatre. 
A  tremor,  partly  from  cold,  partly  from  ner- 
vousness, ran  over  her.  She  went  over  to  the 
fire,  which  blazed  up  brightly. 

"  I  will  give  you  the  money  to-morrow,"  he 
said,  coldly,  "  but  there  must  come  an  end  to 
this.  I  have  let  you  treat  me  too  long  with 
contempt.  In  indulging  you,  in  never  con- 
tradicting you  when  you  are  wrong,  I  have 
lost  your  respect.  What  sort  of  a  position  do 
I  hold  in  this  house?  It  was  a  mistake  when 
I  consented  to  our  living  with  your  father." 

His  sternness  was  so  surprising  that  she 
looked  at  him  with  a  certain  freshness  of  feel- 
ing and  saw  in  his  face,  what  her  indifferent 
eyes  had  long  ceased  to  see,  the  authoritative 
strength  of  the  soldier,  the  ability  of  the  man 
who  had  made  his  millions. 

He  saw  admiration  and  warmth  come  into 
her  expression,  saw  her  arms  half-extended  to 
him,  her  lips  part  to  speak,  and  his  heart  almost 
stood  still.  Did  she  then  love  him  ?  Had 
tenderness  at  last  wakened  in  her?  He  would 
not  move.  She,  she,  herself,  must  make  the 
first  advance. 

"Tom,"  said  her  eager  voice,  "why  don't 


224  The  Washingtonians 

you  make  more  of  yourself?  Suppose  the 
worst  happened  and  father  lost  the  nomination. 
You  are  young  and  stand  a  better  chance. 
There  is  nothing,  nothing,  that  you  could  not 
attain  to  with  your  money  and  ability  and  me 
to  help  you." 

He  pushed  her  away.  "  Don't  come  near 
me.  You  —  you  have  no  heart.  Get  into 
bed.  You  will  catch  cold  standing  here  with 
bare  feet." 

His  strange  manner  frightened  her.  She 
was  glad  to  get  into  bed  again,  and  draw  the 
warm  coverlet  over  her,  for  she  was  shivering. 
She  heard  him  cover  up  the  coals  with  ashes 
and  then  come  and  lie  down  beside  her. 
There  was  a  long  silence. 

Suddenly  she  put  out  her  hand  and  laid  it 
on  his  eyes. 

"  You  are  crying,"  she  said. 

<e  It  is  nothing,"  he  answered,  huskily, 
"nothing.  I  thought,  what  if  one  of  us 
should  die  before  we  had  come  to  a  more 
perfect  understanding." 


Chapter   XVI 

DURING  the  anxious  weeks  that  preceded 
the  Ohio  Republican  convention,  Portia 
spent  much  of  her  time  with  Countess  Polon- 
ski,  whom   she   found   the   most  cheerful    of 
companions,  full  of  wit  and  delightful  impulses. 

The  Secretary,  too,  admired  her  after  his  shy, 
cold  fashion,  and  once,  when  she  dined  inform- 
ally with  them,  he  read  aloud  to  her  from  his 
large  calf-bound  edition  of  Burns.  His  daugh- 
ter had  brought  him  the  book  from  Scotland, 
and  he  prized  it  highly.  He  read  the  dialect 
so  miserably  that  his  guest  could  not  under- 
stand it,  but  he  was  pleased  by  her  attention. 
He  missed  Virginia  more  than  he  fully  realised. 

"  If  I  wish  to  talk  to  you,  the  next  time  you 
come  I  shall  have  to  have  you  for  lunch,"  re- 
marked Portia.  "  Father  enjoys  seeing  you  so 
much  that  he  allows  me  no  visit  with  you 
whatever.  Do  come  out  early  next  Tuesday 
and  spend  the  day." 

It  rained  dismally  on  that  day,  but  her 
guest  arrived  warm  and  bright,  with  her  work- 
bag  on  her  arm  and  a  jar  of  marmalade  for  the 
Secretary. 

225 


226  The  Washingtonians 

"  Taste  it,"  she  said,  "  and  see  if  it  is  too 
bitter.  The  count  likes  it  so.  I  made  it 
myself.  You  don't  know  how  domestic  I've 
become  since  we  moved  into  that  delightful 
old-fashioned  house.  The  furniture  is  so 
homelike.  I  found  a  trunk  of  dolls  and  toys 
and  books  up  in  the  garret.  And  I'm  per- 
fectly sure  that  the  reason  the  springs  are 
broken  in  that  old  horse-hair  lounge  in  the 
hall  is  because  some  child  jumped  on  it."  She 
was  taking  off  her  hat  and  cloak  as  she  spoke, 
and  as  she  finished  she  turned  to  her  hostess 
with  a  smile.  "  I  did  the  most  ridiculous 
thing  on  my  way  here.  I  drove  to  the  green- 
house and  ordered  the  flower-boxes  and  hang- 
ing-baskets for  my  balcony  to  be  sent  up  as 
soon  as  the  warm  weather  comes.  Of  course 
I  am  weeks  too  early,  but  I  thought  they 
would  be  ready  in  time  at  least." 

They  lunched  in  the  little  breakfast-room,  as 
none  of  the  men  in  the  family  was  at  home, 
and  then  went  up-stairs  to  Mrs.  Matthews's 
apartment.  The  countess  drew  up  a  chair  to 
the  window  and  took  out  her  embroidery. 

Portia  rocked  lazily  to  and  fro  in  front  of 
the  fire  with  her  hands  clasped  behind  her 
head.  "You  may  not  wish  my  advice,"  she 
remarked,  "  but  I  think  those  queer,  purplish 
tones  are  hideous.  If  I  were  embroidering 
that  rose  I  should  make  it  red  or  pink,  not 
such  an  outlandish  shade." 


.The  Washingtonians  227 

"  You  have  all  the  instincts  of  a  rustic," 
retorted  her  friend. 

Portia  laughed.  "  At  least,"  she  said,  "  I 
don't  put  out  my  eyes  over  a  piece  of  em- 
broidery that  will  be  faded  by  its  third  wash- 
ing." 

"  I'm  not  concerned  with  the  result,"  an- 
swered the  countess,  serenely.  "  I  am  absorbed 
in  the  joy  of  creating  a  beautiful  thing."  She 
drew  closer  to  the  window,  for  the  day  was 
dark.  Her  face,  too  sombre  in  repose,  too 
eager  in  conversation,  betokened  a  strong 
mind  impatient  of  mere  pleasure.  "  Portia," 
she  said,  suddenly,  "  don't  you  ever  get  tired 
of  society  ?  I  do.  I  get  tired  of  laughing 
with  fools.  I  am  sick  of  mere  feeding.  I  am 
worn  out  with  entertaining  others  and  putting 
on  such  airs  of  being  entertained  by  them  in 
turn." 

"  Society  is  not  composed  of  fools  entirely," 
Portia  answered.  "  You  must  have  met  many 
brilliant  men." 

"  They  have  been  generally  more  brilliant 
than  good,  and  they  ended  by  being  bores," 
answered  the  Russian.  "  I  would  rather  read 
or  talk  to  a  child  than  to  them.  I  admire 
your  father.  The  other  evening  when  he  was 
reading  to  me  from  the  works  of  that  queer 
poet  — 

"  He  wasn't  queer,"  interrupted  Portia, 
laughing  ;  "  it  was  father's  awful  reading." 


228  The  Washingtonians 

"  I  thought  what  a  good  face  your  father 
had,  so  free  from  any  tracery  of  mean  or 
wicked  thoughts.  He  seemed  so  simple  and 
childlike  with  all  his  greatness.  The  tears 
kept  coming  to  my  eyes.  I  was  very  sad 
that  evening.  You  are  so  much  younger 
than  I  by  nature.  It's  the  American  blood 
in  you.  You  Americans  are  always  cheerful 
and  always  worried.  Now,  I'm  not  worried, 
but  I  haven't  your  cheerfulness.  As  for 
brilliant  men,  to  hark  back  to  the  never-worn 
subject  of  men,  I've  reached  the  point  when 
I  can  no  longer  tell  the  difference  between 
a  man  of  genius  and  a  fool !  I'm  tired  of 
men,  Portia." 

"  What  do  you  want  to  do  ? "  asked  Mrs. 
Matthews. 

"  I  want  to  be  a  beggar  and  sit  on  sunny 
street  corners  and  watch  the  world  go  by,  and 
not  have  to  get  up  and  dance  to  its  fiddling." 

"You're  bound  to  make  yourself  out  a 
philosopher,  which  you're  not,"  laughed  her 
friend.  "  Think  how  your  back  would  ache 
sitting  on  the  hard  curbstone,  and  how  cold 
you'd  be  without  your  furs.  Besides,  you 
couldn't  afford  to  cast  them  aside  as  they  are 
so  becoming,  and  no  King  Cophetua  would  look 
at  you  without  them." 

"Do  you  think  stuffed  chairs  satisfy  my 
soul  ?  "  cried  the  countess. 

"  I    was  speaking  of  your  back,"   retorted 


The  Washingtonians  229 

Portia,  "  and  I  can  assure  you  that  chairs 
which  aren't  stuffed  don't  satisfy  mine." 

The  other  dropped  her  work  into  her  lap 
and  stared  out  of  the  window  at  the  gray  world. 
She  sighed.  Much  travel,  many  changes,  had 
not  quelled  her  restlessness.  The  count  was 
a  materialist,  and  his  amused  cynicism  had 
long  since  destroyed  her  religion.  And  hav- 
ing once  lost  her  early  trust,  she  found  that, 
while  she  was  again  intellectually  a  believer, 
those  early  fresh  impulses  of  faith  had  de- 
parted. She  longed  to  be  satisfied  with  that 
spiritual  food  for  which,  however,  she  had  lost 
all  taste. 

The  rain  dashed  against  the  window  in  a 
violent  gust  of  wind.  "  Portia,"  she  said,  a 
gleam  of  merriment  in  her  dark  eyes,  "  I  could, 
indeed,  be  a  proud  and  lonely  soul  sitting  on 
the  curbstone  as  long  as  the  sun  shone,  but  if 
it  began  to  rain  like  this,  I  should  most  cer- 
tainly begin  to  hope  King  Cophetua  would  come 
riding  by  on  his  milk-white,  velvet-caparisoned 
steed  and  rescue  me." 

"  Don't  hope  for  any  such  romance,"  her 
hostess  rejoined.  "  It  would  probably  be  only 
Senator  Chadwick  who  would  come  tripping 
and  sliding  along  the  wet  sidewalk,  and  catch- 
ing sight  of  you,  stop  to  offer  you  his  arm  and 
umbrella." 

"  How  awful !  "  cried  the  countess.  "  Have 
you  heard  from  him  lately  ?  " 


230  The  Washingtonians 

"  Only  the  marked  copies  of  papers  he  sends 
to  the  house,  reporting  his  speeches.  He  is 
still  canvassing  the  northern  part  of  the  State, 
but  of  course  his  time  is  limited.  He  can't 
be  gone  longer  than  ten  days  while  the  Senate 
is  in  session." 

Some  one  tapped  lightly  on  the  door,  which 
was  ajar.  "  May  I  come  in  ? "  asked  Mrs. 
Haas.  "  The  man  told  me  you  were  both 
here,  so  I  ran  right  up-stairs.  Isn't  it  horrid 
weather  ?  I  brought  you  some  lilacs  that  have 
been  forced  in  the  hothouse." 

Mrs.  Matthews  unwrapped  the  tissue-paper 
from  the  flowers  and  put  them  in  water. 
"  How  like  you  to  select  these  !  Why,  they 
have  no  perfume.  I'd  as  soon  think  of  long- 
ing for  cherries  at  Christmas  time  as  having 
lilacs  before  the  last  of  April  or  May.  Thank 
you  very  much,  my  dear." 

"  Indeed  you  needn't  thank  me,"  retorted 
Mrs.  Haas,  "  for  I've  changed  my  mind  about 
giving  them  to  you.  I  see  perfectly  well  you 
don't  appreciate  them.  I'm  sorry  I  spent  my 
money  now.  What  a  lovely  rose,  Countess 
Polonski !  That  shade  of  green  is  simply 
delicious ! " 

"  Green,"  echoed  her  hostess,  "  I  call  that  a 
sickly  gray." 

Mrs.  Haas  flung  off  her  long  coat  and  sat 
down  by  the  fire.  "  Is  that  a  box  of  marsh- 
mallows  on  the  table  ?  If  you'll  give  me  a 


The  Washingtonians  231 

long  pin  I'll  toast  them.  These  coals  are  just 
right." 

She  looked  like  a  child  sitting  on  the  rug 
in  front  of  the  fire.  Her  white  cloth  dress, 
trimmed  with  gold  braid,  had  a  splash  of  mud 
on  the  hem. 

"  I  think  it  is  outrageous  for  you  to  wear 
that  beautiful  dress  on  a  day  like  this,"  said 
Portia,  going  over  to  her  dressing-table  for  a 
brush.  "  On  second  thought,  I  think  we'd 
better  let  it  dry  first.  Then  it  will  come  off 
easily." 

Mrs.  Haas  shook  her  mass  of  hair  loose 
about  her  face  and  looked  up  at  Mrs.  Matthews 
like  a  wilful  child.  "  I  always  put  on  my 
nicest  things  gloomy  days  so  I  won't  be  blue. 
Wilhelm  —  " 

"  Wilhelm,"  echoed  Countess  Polonski,  "  it 
is  always  Wilhelm."  She  had  come  over  to 
the  fire,  and  now  she  stooped  and  patted  the 
other's  cheek.  "  I  am  not  laughing  at  you. 
I  think  it  is  very  sweet."  She  stood  erect 
again  and  put  her  foot  on  the  fender,  lifting 
her  skirt  a  few  inches,  and  gazing  down  with 
her  kindly  smile.  There  was  often  a  look  of 
benignity  in  her  face. 

"  Don't  think  you  two  are  never  going  to 
get  any  mallows,"  spoke  Mrs.  Haas. 

"  We  are  not  anxious,"  answered  Mrs. 
Matthews,  "  as  yet  you  have  only  eaten  two 
without  offering  us  any." 


23  2  The  Washingtonians 

"  Well,  I  ate  the  first  one  to  see  if  it  were 
good,  and  the  second  one  was  scorched.  Here, 
take  this.  Don't  burn  yourself.  I  have  a 
piece  of  news  for  you,  Portia.  Otherwise  I 
wouldn't  have  come  out  here  in  this  rain ;  but 
Wilhelm  bundled  me  into  a  hack  and  sent  me 
out."  Her  pale  little  face,  to  which  the  warm 
reflection  brought  only  the  faintest  colour, 
looked  up  tantalisingly. 

"  I  think  you  are  positively  uncanny,  Elise," 
cried  Mrs.  Matthews.  "  How  can  you  sit  there 
toasting  those  marshmallows  when  you  were 
sent  out  here  with  a  message  for  me  ?  What 
is  it  ?  " 

"  It's  Greenleaf.  He  told  my  husband  that 
he  had  become —  Oh,  dear,  dear,  there  goes 
that  marshmallow  !  That  was  all  your  fault, 
because  you  insisted  on  talking  to  me  while 
I  was  toasting  them.  And  there  are  only 
three  left  in  the  box.  Just  look  at  that  sizzling 
on  the  coals.  Isn't  that  mean  !  " 

Countess  Polonski  laughed,  and  in  another 
moment  Portia  joined  her. 

"  Do  you  think  you  are  acting  in  a  very  nice 
way,  Elise  ?  "  she  asked. 

Mrs.  Haas  looked  up  elfishly  from  under 
her  red  hair  that  shone  like  copper  in  the 
firelight.  Then  she  too  began  to  laugh.  "  I 
was  only  trying  to  tease  you.  Mr.  Greenleaf 
has  become  more  than  ever  convinced  of  your 
father's  fitness  for  the  Presidential  chair,  and 


The  Washingtonians  233 

he  is  going  to  make  some  speeches  for  him, 
go  about  to  different  towns,  you  know,  and  all 
that  sort  of  thing.  Here,  take  this  quick 
before  it  drops  off,  or  I'll  eat  it  myself.  There, 
I  had  to  eat  it  or  it  would  have  fallen.  Of 
course  it  will  mean  a  tremendous  triumph  to 
have  Greenleaf  interest  himself  as  much  as 
that.  Why,  more  people  than  we  have  any 
idea  of  just  swear  by  him." 

"  Oh,"  cried  Portia,  "  I  wonder  if  father 
knows.  I  can  scarcely  wait  until  he  gets  home 
to  tell  him.  He  will  be  so  happy !  How 
could  you  keep  from  telling  me  at  once?  If 
I  don't  show  that  girl  of  his  more  than  a 
good  time.  I'll  do  my  best  to  get  her  well 
married." 

"  I  smell  a  mouse,"  said  Mrs.  Haas,  with  a 
quick  glance  of  her  green  eyes  that  could  be 
so  shrewd.  "  Out  with  it,  Portia.  What  did  you 
do  to  Greenleaf?  I'm  determined  to  know." 

Mrs.  Matthews  wished  she  hadn't  spoken, 
but  there  was  no  way  now  of  backing  out. 
"Wait  till  1  order  some  tea  and  then  I'll  tell 
you  the  whole  story." 

"  I  shall  tell  Wilhelm  even  if  it  is  a  secret," 
put  in  Mrs.  Haas,  obstinately.  "  I'm  not 
going  to  promise  anything." 

"  Well,  if  you  don't  tell  any  one  else,  it's  all 
right,"  answered  Portia,  easily.  She  had  not 
the  slightest  fear  that  Countess  Polonski  would 
ever  repeat  anything. 


234  The  Washingtonians 

"  I  am  quite  interested,"  said  the  latter. 
"  Have  you  been  turning  lobbyist  ? " 

Mrs.  Haas  put  her  finger  on  her  lips. 
"  Hush,"  her  bright,  mischievous  eyes  glanced 
from  one  to  the  other  of  her  friends,  "  hush. 
Only  common,  horrid  women  whom  we  would 
never  know  do  lobbying."  She  pulled  down 
her  mouth  prudishly.  "  But  tell  us,  dear, 
how  you  influenced  old  Daddy  Longlegs. 
Have  you  met  his  daughter  ?  " 

The  three  were  an  hour  or  more  sipping 
their  tea,  laughing  and  chatting.  Mrs.  Haas 
paraded  across  the  room  to  show  them  how 
Greenleaf's  daughter  walked,  after  Portia  fin- 
ished telling  them  of  her  lunch  in  the  market 
with  the  great  editor. 

"You  are  such  a  fraud,"  said  Countess 
Polonski,  "  no  one  who  meets  you  for  the  first 
time  out  in  society,  with  your  far-away  look 
and  white  gowns,  is  ever  anything  but  awed  by 
your  transcendently  spiritual  look.  You  seem 
a  kind  of  transfigured  angel.  That  poor  girl ! 
Is  she  really  as  awkward  as  that?  Awkward 
people  are  always  pathetic." 

"  Every  bit  and  worse,  with  a  horrid  com- 
plexion," she  answered,  promptly. 

"  Both  can  be  remedied,"  added  Portia, 
cheerfully.  "  I  stand  ready  to  do  my  duty  to 
the  full." 

Mrs.  Haas  sank  languidly  into  her  chair. 
"  I  must  tell  you  what  fun  I  had  with  Wilhelm 


The  Washingtonians  235 

last  night.  He  can't  bear  a  large  picture  hat 
with  plumes  on  me.  He  thinks  it  doesn't  look 
nice  on  the  street.  He'd  have  me  in  a  bonnet 
like  an  old  lady,  with  strings  under  my  chin. 
So  I  thought  I'd  cure  him.  I  bought  a  big 
black  velvet  hat.  Last  night  was  his  easy 
night  at  the  office,  so  I  met  him  at  dinner  with 
it  on,  and  then  went  to  make  some  calls  with 
him.  He  was  sulky.  When  we  came  home 
I  undressed  with  it  on,  and  when  he  came 
up-stairs  I  was  kneeling  at  my  prayers  still 
with  that  hat  on.  I  heard  him  slam  the 
door  and  go  out.  After  awhile  he  came  up 
again,  and  I  knew  by  his  step  that  he  re- 
pented his  temper  and  expected  me  to  be  in 
tears.  And  there  I  was  sitting  up  against 
the  pillows  in  bed  with  my  eyes  closed,  my 
hands  peacefully  folded  like  a  saint's  on  my 
breast,  and  with  my  beautiful  hat  still  on 
my  head ! " 

While  they  were  laughing  General  Matthews 
entered  abruptly. 

He  nodded  to  Mrs.  Haas  as  he  tossed  a 
paper  into  his  wife's  lap.  "  Read  that." 

She  glanced  up,  and  realised  with  a  sudden 
sinking  of  the  heart  that  he  had  been  drinking. 
He  had  ignored  Countess  Polonski,  whom  he 
could  not  have  helped  seeing,  but  she  had  too 
much  tact  to  notice  his  lack  of  courtesy  in  his 
present  condition.  She  spread  the  paper  open 
in  her  lap. 


236  The  Washingtonians 

"  I  will  read  it  in  a  few  minutes.  I  am  busy 
just  now.  Is  that  all  ?  " 

"  I  told  you  to  read  it,  didn't  I  ? "  he 
cried. 

Fearful  of  a  scene,  she  lifted  the  paper,  but 
for  the  first  moments  she  was  so  angry  that 
she  could  not  see  the  printed  letters  clearly. 
Then  she  saw  it  was  an  article  referring  to  her 
as  a  lobbyist.  The  paper's  policy  had  been 
bitterly  hostile  to  her  father  from  the  first,  and 
referred  to  him  contemptuously  as  a  self-seek- 
ing aristocrat  with  no  sympathy  for  the  people. 
A  wave  of  indignation  swept  over  her.  He, 
an  aristocrat !  A  farmer's  boy,  making  his 
own  fortune  and  maintaining  in  his  high  posi- 
tion the  simplest  manner  of  living ;  who  came 
more  from  the  people  than  he  ?  "  Because  he 
is  not  a  Hoosier  in  his  manner  and  looks  he  is 
to  be  insulted  !  "  she  thought,  bitterly.  Then 
she  suddenly  remembered  the  present  situation, 
and  that  the  three  people  in  the  room  were 
watching  her. 

"  Is  this  all  ? "  she  asked  her  husband, 
coldly. 

"All?"  he  echoed,  furiously,  "is  it  not 
enough  that  we  should  both  be  so  insulted  ? 
If  you  would  take  my  advice  you  would  see 
less  of  Chadwick  and  this  woman  here." 

"Tom,"  she  said,  slowly,  "look  at  me. 
You  don't  know  what  you  are  saying.  You 
are  drunk.  You  hear  me?  If  you  do  not 


The  Washingtonians  237 

leave  my  room  at  once,  I  will  ring  the  bell 
for  your  servant  to  help  you." 

For  a  moment  their  two  wills  contended 
silently.  Then  his  broke,  and  he  turned  away 
with  a  slouching  step. 

She  had  forgotten  her  guests.  She  could 
only  think  how  terrible  the  incident  was. 
Mechanically  she  commenced  to  fold  the 
paper.  Her  eye  caught  the  headline  of  a 
short  paragraph. 

"  Tom,  Tom,  Tom  !  "  she  cried.  "  Oh, 
come  back  !  Come  back  !  Philip  La  Cerf  is 
dead." 

Matthews  turned  with  his  hand  on  the  door- 
knob. "  I  heard  it  this  noon,"  he  said,  dully. 
"  He  was  shot  through  the  heart." 

And  he  went  out  and  closed  the  door. 

Countess  Polonski  had  put  on  her  hat  and 
was  now  fastening  the  clasps  of  her  cloak  with 
trembling  fingers. 

Those  trembling  fingers,  struggling  inef- 
fectually to  fasten  the  cloak,  recalled  Portia 
to  herself,  and  she  rose  and  pushed  her  friend 
down  into  her  chair. 

"  Katrina,  if  you  go  now  I  never  shall  for- 
give you.  Tom  has  been  drinking.  He  will 
apologise." 

Her  friend  caught  her  hands,  lifting  her  face 
eagerly.  "  Do  not  worry,"  she  said.  "  I  un- 
derstand. Do  not  mind  my  tears.  I  am 
nervous.  I  am  not  well.  You  must  not  let 


238  The  Washingtonians 

him  drink  so.  He  is  not  happy.  That  is 
why.  I  have  seen  it.  Oh,  my  dear  friend,  if 
I  had  a  husband  as  good  as  yours,  as  true  and 
kind  —  I  have  wanted  to  say  this  to  you  so 
long  —  I  should  not  mind  about  politics,  nor 
riches,  nor  society,  nor  anything  but  him.  I 
should  be  proud  just  to  mind  his  home,  to 
help  him,  to  take  care  of  our  children,  if  we 
had  any."  She  withdrew  her  hands  and 
pressed  them  tight  together.  A  bright  spot 
of  colour  burned  on  either  cheek. 

"  Is  it  as  bad  as  that  ?  "  cried  Mrs.  Matthews. 
"Is  your  husband  such  a  brute  as  that?  " 

Countess  Polonski  nodded.  She  sat  up  in 
her  chair,  straight  and  proud.  "  I  wish  he 
were  dead,"  she  said,  with  great  and  sudden 
calmness. 

Mrs.  Haas  was  watching  them  like  a  fright- 
ened child.  She  was  terrified  by  these  strange 
passions  and  wanted  to  run  away. 

Portia  walked  over  to  the  window  and  stood 
staring  out  at  the  gray  landscape.  La  Cerf 
dead !  He  had  consumption,  anyway.  He 
would  not  have  lived.  But  this  was  awful ! 
Shot  through  the  heart.  How  miserable  the 
drizzling  rain  and  the  sighing  poplars ! 
Through  the  background  of  her  thought 
sounded  the  slouching  step  of  her  husband  as 
when  he  turned  and  left  the  room.  Was  his 
will  failing  him  ?  Had  he  lost  the  decided 
pace  of  the  soldier  ? 


The  Washingtonians  239 

A  carriage  drove  rapidly  away  from  the 
house  down  the  wet  driveway  between  the  two 
lines  of  Lombardy  poplars. 

She  looked  quickly  back  of  her  into  the 
room.  She  and  the  countess  were  alone. 

And,  suddenly,  Portia  found  herself  laugh- 
ing, laughing  until  the  tears  rolled  down  her 
face,  and  she  was  obliged  to  sit  down  in  the 
rocking-chair. 

"  Forgive  me,  Katrina,"  she  cried.  "  I 
assure  you  laughter  is  furthest  from  my 
thoughts,  but  that  little  fool  has  run  away 
from  us.  Isn't  it  ghastly  ?  " 

There  was  no  answering  smile  on  her 
friend's  face.  She  rose.  "  I  can't  find  my 
veil,"  and  she  began  searching  for  it  around 
the  room. 

"  Here  it  is,"  said  Portia,  lifting  the  filmy 
lace  from  the  floor.  The  look  in  the  other's 
face  sobered  her.  "  You  are  ill  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  answered  Countess  Polonski,  "  I  am 
ill.  I  must  go  home.  No,  I  want  nothing, 
thank  you." 

Portia  returned  to  the  window  to  watch 
anxiously  for  her  father.  As  soon  as  he  came, 
she  would  have  the  carriage  return  to  town 
with  her  guest.  She  thought  of  Mrs.  Haas 
with  contempt.  Why  had  not  she  thought 
to  invite  her  friend  to  drive  in  with  her  ? 
She  despised  her  with  the  scorn  of  the  strong 
nature  for  the  incapable  and  selfish. 


240  The  Washingtonians 

"  Shall  I  drive  in  with  you,  Katrina  ?  "  she 
asked. 

"  Oh,  no,  thank  you,"  the  countess  an- 
swered her.  "It  is  one  of  my  nervous  head- 
aches. All  I  need  is  sleep."  She  had  recovered 
herself  and  smiled  brightly. 


Chapter    XVII 

SHE  passed  a  dreary  evening.  General 
Matthews  did  not  come  down  to  dinner, 
and  she  made  the  excuse  that  he  was  ill  with 
a  cold  and  had  gone  to  bed. 

Sickness  in  his  family  always  wakened  the 
more  gentle  and  affectionate  traits  in  the  Secre- 
tary, and  he  proposed  that  they  should  spend 
part  of  the  evening  up-stairs  in  his  son-in-law's 
room.  He  liked  a  sick-room  with  its  atmos- 
phere of  tea  and  toast  and  flowers  and  cheerful 
reading  at  the  bedside  of  the  invalid. 

"  We  will  read  a  chapter  or  two  in  Dickens. 
And  you  might  bring  your  sewing  up,  Portia." 

"  It  is  very  nice  of  you  to  think  of  Tom," 
she  answered,  "  but  I  know  he  wishes  to  sleep, 
and  as  for  myself  I  have  some  letters  that  must 
be  written." 

"You  and  I  might  have  a  game  of  chess, 
sir,"  proposed  Prentiss. 

"  I  won't  let  you  beat  me  this  time,"  said 
the  Secretary.  He  was  in  the  best  of  spirits. 
Haas  had  called  on  him  that  afternoon,  and 
told  him  of  Greenleaf 's  decision  to  "  stump  " 
several  States  for  him.  He  turned  to  Portia. 

"  By    the  way,  I    had   a   letter  from  Virginia, 
241 


242.  The  Washingtonians 

and  she  is  worried  for  fear  the  ribbon  she 
tied  about  her  kitten's  neck  might  acciden- 
tally get  drawn  tighter  and  choke  it.  Perhaps 
you'd  better  see  about  it,  my  dear." 

"  I'm  sorry,"  she  said,  "  but  I  gave  it  away 
to  some  children  who  were  having  a  picnic 
over  in  the  woods.  I  couldn't  have  it  around 
under  my  feet  any  longer." 

Prentiss  laughed  abruptly,  and,  glancing  up, 
she  encountered  the  only  look  of  anger  he  had 
ever  given  her. 

She  wondered  if  he  knew  of  La  Cerf's 
death. 

Secretary  West  had  seen  the  notice  but  had 
forgotten  it  for  the  time  being.  The  Indian's 
death  seemed  fully  as  tragic  but  of  no  more 
particular  moment  than  that  of  any  other 
soldier. 

When  Mrs.  Matthews  finally  went  up-stairs 
that  night,  she  found  the  room  dark.  She 
spoke  to  her  husband,  but  he  did  not  reply, 
and  she  judged  that  he  was  asleep.  The  lilacs 
Mrs.  Haas  had  brought  had  some  perfume 
after  all,  a  sweet,  faint,  oppressive  odour  that 
made  the  air  heavy.  She  opened  the  window 
and  flung  them  out,  then  lighted  the  lamp. 
She  had  no  desire  to  go  near  Matthews,  and 
so,  after  partially  undressing,  she  put  on  a 
wrapper,  turned  the  lamp  low,  and  left  the 
room.  At  the  farther  end  of  the  wide,  old- 
fashioned  hall  was  a  horse-hair  lounge,  that 


The  Washingtonians  243 

was  sometimes  used  as  a  bed  when  the  house 
was  full  of  guests.  She  wrapped  the  afghan 
around  her  and  lay  down.  There  was  a  faint 
light  from  a  bracketed  lamp  half-way  down 
the  hall,  and  it  cast  dreary  shadows.  The 
lounge  was  hard  and  uncomfortable ;  the  rain 
outside  beat  down  dismally.  Her  spirits  were 
at  too  low  an  ebb  to  revive,  even  at  the  recol- 
lection of  the  good  news  Mrs.  Haas  had 
brought.  She  seldom  became  angry,  but  when 
she  did  it  made  her  almost  physically  ill,  and 
bitter  thoughts  of  her  husband  filled  her  mind 
to  the  exclusion  of  all  else.  She  knew  this  was 
a  single  offence,  that  he  probably  would  not 
become  an  habitual  drinker,  but  her  pride  was 
deeply  wounded.  He  had  insulted  her  friend, 
owing  to  his  drunken  condition.  This  fact 
filled  her  with  such  contempt  that  her  anger 
turned  to  a  kind  of  physical  loathing,  so  that 
she  wished  she  might  not  see  him  again  for 
weeks  or  months. 

"  Why  doesn't  he  go  back  to  his  brigade  ?  " 
she  asked,  aloud.  "  He's  well  enough.  I 
wish  he  would  go."  Panic  followed  the  wish. 
It  was  she  who  had  persuaded  La  Cerf  to  go, 
and  he  had  been  shot.  Suppose  Matthews 
should  return,  and —  She  pressed  her  hands 
together  in  vain  anxiety  to  unsay  the  wish. 
Should  fate  take  her  at  her  spoken  words  — 
"  I  am  getting  superstitious.  It  is  this  miser- 
able night.  How  I  wish  it  would  clear  away 


244  The  Washingtonians 

and  I  could  see  the  stars.  I  believe  I  hate 
rain  as  much  as  I  do  poor  people  when  they 
intrude  on  me."  Back  of  the  sofa  was  a  win- 
dow, and  she  drew  aside  the  curtain  and  looked 
out  into  the  night.  She  could  see  nothing, 
but  only  heard  the  steady  downpour.  The 
blackness  imparted  a  feeling  of  suffocation. 
Her  father  was  probably  in  bed,  reading,  and 
she  had  no  doubt  that  his  mood  was  one  of 
contentment,  and  that  the  rain  was  pleasant  to 
his  ears,  and  sounded  the  line  from  the  Bene- 
dicite,  "  O  ye  Showers  and  Dew,  bless  ye  the 
Lord;  praise  him,  and  magnify  him  for  ever." 

"  I  wish  I  had  his  sense  of  sublimity,"  ran 
her  thoughts,  "  but  religion  brings  me  nothing, 
and  I  should  die  of  melancholy  to  read  the 
Bible  every  night  as  he  does.  I  wonder  that 
he  can  be  so  ambitious.  It  would  kill  any 
spirit  I  had.  If  I'd  had  any  sense  I  would 
have  gone  and  spent  the  night  with  Katrina 
Polonski,  especially  as  Polonski,  himself,  is  in 
New  York  just  now." 

She  turned  restlessly,  trying  to  make  herself 
comfortable  on  the  slippery  sofa.  "  It's  Tom 
who  deserves  to  be  out  here,  not  I.  Poor 
Virginia !  "  This  last  with  a  twinge  of  com- 
punction, for,  whenever  a  full  household  had 
demanded  an  extra  room,  it  was  Virginia  who 
was  turned  out  from  her  little  bed  and  made 
to  sleep  in  the  hall.  Portia  felt  a  return  of 
happy  humour,  and  laughed  softly.  "  I  sup- 


The  Washingtonians  245 

pose  it's  wholesome  to  have  to  take  a  dose  of 
the  medicine  one  prescribes  for  others,  but  this 
one  experience  of  trying  to  sleep  here  is  enough 
for  me.  If  I  go  back  to  my  own  comfortable 
bed  I  sacrifice  my  pride,  if  I  stay  here  I  sacri- 
fice my  comfort." 

She  sat  up  on  the  edge  of  the  sofa.  Her 
happy  spirits  had  revived  for  no  reason  except, 
perhaps,  a  natural  reaction  from  the  gloom  and 
depression  of  the  past  several  hours.  Her 
husband's  offence  no  longer  seemed  particu- 
larly serious.  He  was  not  well,  anyway,  and 
the  news  of  La  Cerf 's  death,  combined  with  the 
insulting  allusion  to  herself  in  the  afternoon 
paper,  had  made  him  forget  himself.  She  was 
not  at  all  distressed  by  the  reference  to  her  in 
the  paper  as  a  lobbyist.  Her  position  was  so 
strong  as  to  make  the  insult  ineffectual. 

A  delicate  sound  blended  with  the  beating 
of  the  rain.  It  came  so  softly  as  for  the  mo- 
ment to  seem  mysterious  to  her,  like  a  strain 
of  fairy  music.  Then  she  recognised  it.  Pren- 
tiss,  in  the  drawing-room,  was  playing  the 
little  dance  of  nymphs  that  he  had  composed 
for  an  episode  in  one  of  his  plays.  He  played 
often  late  at  night,  privileged  to  do  so  because 
none  in  the  household  was  ever  disturbed  by 
it.  It  was  a  relief  after  his  long  hours  of  work. 
But  Portia  had  often  observed  that  he  played 
most  when  he  was  troubled,  as  if  the  music 
brought  him  consolation.  She  smiled  in  sym- 


246  The  Washingtonians 

pathy  with  the  elfin  dance,  keeping  time  with 
her  foot. 

It  died  away.  All  at  once  like  a  knell  a 
sombre  note  was  struck,  and  she  started, 
scarcely  able  to  believe  her  hearing.  Prentiss 
was  playing  the  snake-dance  that  La  Cerf  had 
played. 

"  Then  he  knows  that  he  is  dead,"  she 
thought.  "  It  is  on  his  mind." 

To  listen  to  the  music  was  almost  more 
than  she  could  endure,  yet  she  could  not  help 
listening  with  a  strained  eagerness.  She  almost 
wondered  if  Prentiss's  mind  were  affected.  He 
was  improvising,  but  he  never  lost  that  harsh 
insistent  note. 

"  It  is  a  funeral  march,"  Portia  cried,  aloud ; 
"  why  doesn't  he  stop  ?  "  She  spoke  as  if  there 
were  some  one  to  hear  and  answer  her  question. 
"  Why  doesn't  he  stop  ?  " 

She  wondered  why  she  did  not  rise  and  go 
to  the  head  of  the  stairs  and  call  down  to  him. 
Why  didn't  her  father  hear  and  open  his  door, 
and  make  some  protest  ?  But  the  music  fas- 
cinated her  as  it  had  not  when  he,  who  was  now 
dead,  had  first  played  it  for  her.  It  seemed  as 
if  the  very  soul  of  the  Indian  were  speaking 
through  that  medium  of  sound,  —  repellent, 
haughty,  with  a  wild  sadness,  barbarous,  then 
a  sudden  burst  of  savage  exultation  followed  by 
absolute  silence.  It  left  her  shivering,  drained 
of  all  power  to  feel,  her  mind  wondering  vaguely 


The  Washingtonians  247 

at  the  talent  Prentiss  possessed.  She  heard 
him  come  up-stairs,  slowly,  like  an  old  man. 
Instead  of  going  straight  to  his  room,  he  came 
on  down  the  hall,  and  she  shrank  back  into  the 
shadow.  He  opened  the  door  of  Virginia's 
room,  and  a  gust  of  wind  blew  out  and  down 
the  hall,  extinguishing  the  low  flame  of  the 
lamp  in  the  bracket  on  the  side  wall.  She 
heard  him  close  the  window  which  some  care- 
less servant  had  left  open,  and  she  fancied  that 
he  spoke  some  words  aloud.  Then  he  came 
out,  stepping  by  her  in  the  darkness,  and 
walked  back  down  the  hall.  There  was  the 
blue  spurt  of  a  match,  the  quick  flame,  and 
then  she  saw  his  pale  face  clearly  as  he  reached 
up  and  lighted  the  lamp  anew.  Somehow 
he  looked  the  Prentiss  of  the  old  days  when 
he  had  loved  her.  How  intellectual  his 
profile  was.  There  was  a  will  to  match  her 
own.  Matthews,  foolish,  loving,  intemperate, 
was  a  boy  beside  him.  Would  she  have  been 
happier  married  to  Prentiss  ?  Would  life  have 
been  more  stimulating  because  of  the  unending 
struggle  there  would  have  been  between  them  ? 
But  he  was  born  to  be  a  poor  man ;  as  it  was 
now,  the  world  was  open  to  her  adventurous 
spirit.  When  he  had  gone  into  his  own  room 
and  closed  the  door  she  rose  with  a  sigh  of  re- 
lief. "  Let  me  but  once  get  back  to  Tom," 
she  addressed  herself  with  energy.  "  Thank 
heavens  that  he  drinks  too  much,  that  he's 


248  The  Washingtonians 

hateful  as  he  can  be  at  times,  that  I  long  to 
shake  him  this  very  moment !  He's  at  least 
human,  and  doesn't  prowl  around  the  house 
like  a  genius  gone  mad  !  " 

Very  peace  itself  seemed  to  descend  upon 
her  as  she  entered  her  own  room  and  closed 
the  door.  The  air  was  cool  and  sweet ;  the 
oppressive  odour  of  the  lilacs  was  gone;  the 
shaded  lamp  burning  steadily  seemed  like  a 
quiet  friend  awaiting  her  coming.  She  turned 
the  flame  a  shade  higher,  and  stepped  over 
to  the  bed  to  see  if  Matthews  were  still 
asleep. 

His  pillow  had  fallen  to  the  floor,  and  he 
rested  uncomfortably  on  the  wrinkled  sheet. 
He  was  lying  on  his  wounded  side,  and  in  his 
stupor  could  not  rouse  himself  to  turn  over. 
His  thick  blond  hair  was  rumpled,  his  mouth 
drooped,  and  he  was  frowning  slightly  even  in 
his  heavy  sleep.  Part  of  the  bed-covering 
dragged  on  the  floor. 

She  passed  her  arm  under  his  shoulders  and 
raised  him  slightly,  for  she  was  a  strong  woman, 
and  drew  the  wrinkled  sheet  up  taut  and  slipped 
the  pillow  under  his  head,  turning  him  on  his 
well  side  as  she  let  him  lie  down  again.  His 
breathing  grew  easy  at  once.  She  brought  him 
a  glass  of  water,  and  roused  him  sufficiently  to 
make  him  drink  it.  He  took  it  all  thirstily, 
looking  at  her  with  dazed,  unconscious  eyes, 
then  sank  back  easily  on  his  pillow,  and  in  a 


The  Washingtonians  249 

moment  was  sleeping  quietly.  For  a  moment 
she  stood  watching  him,  and  then  she  bent  and 
kissed  him.  Lying  there,  sick,  boyish,  troubled, 
he  went  to  her  heart. 

She  wakened  with  the  first  rays  of  the  sun, 
refreshed,  eager  to  dress  and  get  the  sweetness 
of  the  early  morning  after  the  rain. 

As  she  stepped  out  upon  the  verandah  the 
air  was  almost  springlike.  She  went  around 
to  the  bay  window,  where,  in  a  sheltered  nook, 
were  a  few  English  violets  protected  by  an  old 
window-pane.  It  was  time  to  remove  the 
glass,  and  in  doing  so  she  spied  several  of 
the  purple  blossoms,  and  picked  them  for  her 
father.  How  they  would  delight  him  !  His 
years  on  the  farm  as  a  boy  had  left  him  with 
an  aversion  for  the  hard  physical  labour  the 
life  entailed,  but  he  retained  his  appreciation 
of  the  delights  the  country  afforded.  Nature 
appealed  to  the  mingled  poetical  and  religious 
emotions  in  him.  It  was  otherwise  with  his 
daughter.  She  loved  the  homely  things  of 
life,  the  making  of  butter  and  cheese,  the 
milking  time,  the  smell  of  the  fresh  earth  be- 
neath the  plough,  and,  lovely  as  the  blossoming 
trees  were,  she  felt  a  more  complete  satisfaction 
when  the  fruit  was  transformed  into  jellies  and 
preserves  to  stock  her  storeroom. 

A  negro  was  making  his  way  over  to  the 
chicken  yard  with  brush  and  pail  to  do  some 
whitewashing.  She  went  over  to  watch  him ; 


250  The  Washingtonians 

then,  obeying  her  impulse,  sent  him  for  a  bas- 
ket and  gathered  the  eggs  from  the  nests  her- 
self. She  experienced  a  childlike  delight  at 
every  fresh  discovery,  and  she  called  the 
darkey  in  to  see  one  nest  which  contained 
fifteen  eggs. 

As  she  came  out  she  saw  her  father  standing 
on  the  side  verandah  and  waved  her  hand  to 
him.  She  made  a  pretty  picture  in  the  fresh 
day,  wearing  an  old  straw  garden-poke  tied 
under  her  chin,  a  lavender  morning  gown  of 
an  elegance  out  of  keeping  with  her  shabby 
poke  and  clumsy  gloves. 

The  Secretary  stepped  down  to  meet  her. 
She  kissed  him  good-morning,  and  fastened 
the  tiny  cluster  of  violets  in  his  coat. 

"  Come,"  she  said,  "  it  isn't  nearly  breakfast- 
time  yet  and  I  have  something  to  show  you. 
It's  the  old  cherry-tree  behind  the  barn  that  I 
had  to  have  chopped  down  last  fall  in  order  to 
build  out." 

He  followed  her  until  she  paused  beside  the 
fallen  tree  and  pointed  out  to  him  the  swelling 
buds.  "  Think  of  the  vitality  the  old  tree  had, 
father.  It  won't  be  long  before  it  will  blos- 
som." 

"  Dear,  dear,"  said  the  Secretary,  "somehow 
it  makes  me  feel  a  little  sad." 

"It  does  seem  too  bad,"  Portia  rejoined. 
"  These  bur's  have  come  out  so  bravely  and 
will  blossom  the  first  warm  days  without  the 


The  Washingtonians  251 

least  idea  that  they  never  can  be  cherries." 
She  picked  off  several  of  the  twigs. 

"  There  is  a  real  beauty  about  it,  though," 
moralised  the  Secretary.  "  Look  at  the  size 
of  the  trunk.  What  fruit  that  old  tree  has 
yielded  in  its  day  !  And  now,  stricken  down, 
it  puts  forth  these  last  blossoms,  that  will  van- 
ish like  the  snow  and  leave  no  mark.  It  is  not 
unlike  love  in  old  age." 

"  Mercy  on  us,"  cried  his  daughter,  "  I  hope 
you're  not  thinking  of  another  widow,  father." 

For  a  moment  he  was  annoyed.  He  thought 
she  referred  more  often  than  was  tactful  to  that 
trying  episode.  But  his  irritation  was  quickly 
past.  "  No,  my  dear,  I  was  thinking  of  your 
mother  and  how  the  memory  of  her  was  com- 
ing back  upon  me  after  all  these  years  just  as 
those  buds  are  beginning  to  flower  on  that 
tree."  His  fine  eyes  held  his  rarest  expres- 
sion. "  Lately  I  am  never  able  to  imagine 
myself  a  middle-aged  man  when  I  think  of 
her.  I  seem  young  to  myself  and  almost  her 
age." 

"Don't  I  make  you  feel  young?"  asked 
Portia,  mischievously. 

"  No,"  he  retorted,  drily,  "  you  make  me 
feel  rather  more  than  middle-aged.  Some- 
times when  with  you  I  am  not  sure  but  that  I 
have  reached  my  second  childhood." 

General  Matthews  came  down  to  breakfast. 
He  looked  pale  and  entirely  self-composed,  but 


252  The  Washingtonians 

he  had  no  spirit  with  which  to  meet  his  wife's 
evident  determination  to  act  as  if  nothing  un- 
usual had  occurred.  His  self-respect  smarted 
under  her  good-nature,  which  to  him  took  on 
the  semblance  of  contempt,  and  he  was  still 
depressed  by  La  Cerf's  death.  After  the  Sec- 
retary and  Prentiss  retired  he  remained  at  the 
table  for  his  second  cup  of  coffee  and  to  look 
over  the  morning  paper.  But  though  he  read 
the  news  with  interest  he  was  conscious  of  a 
feeling  of  constriction  at  his  heart. 

His  strange  manner  puzzled  her  and  chilled 
any  impulse  of  forgiveness  and  good-fellowship 
with  which  she  had  begun  the  day. 

So  she  decided  to  leave  him  to  his  sulks  and 
go  into  town  to  see  Countess  Polonski.  When 
she  arrived  at  the  house  she  had  to  ring  several 
times  before  she  was  admitted.  The  door  was 
opened  suddenly  by  the  count  himself. 

"  I  thought  you  were  in  New  York,"  she 
cried,  in  surprise. 

"  I  came  back  yesterday  afternoon,"  he  an- 
swered. He  was  in  his  dressing-gown  and 
slippers  and  unshaven.  "  Throw  over  me  the 
kindly  mantle  of  your  charity,  Mrs.  Matthews, 
and  do  not  observe  my  appearance.  My  ser- 
vant was  impertinent  and  I  had  to  dismiss  him 
without  warning.  Come  up-stairs.  We  were 
just  about  to  have  our  coffee  in  the  library. 
I  am  fond  of  that  room  as  it  gets  the  morning 
sun." 


The  Washingtonians  253 

As  she  preceded  him  up  the  stairs  she  felt 
that  something  disastrous  had  occurred.  It 
was  in  the  very  air  as  though  the  house  itself 
were  charged  with  a  secret.  Polonski's  power- 
ful personality  seemed  to  envelop  her,  and  she 
looked  ahead  eagerly  to  meet  the  relief  of  his 
wife's  genuine  and  affectionate  greeting. 


Chapter   XVIII 

THE  door  into  the  library  was  open.  As 
she  stepped  within  she  noticed  the  odour 
of  coffee  and  saw  a  samovar  of  heavy  Russian 
brass  on  the  writing-table  in  the  centre  of  the 
room.  The  blue  flame  from  the  alcohol  cup 
was  burning  brightly,  and  Count  Polonski 
hastened  to  extinguish  it. 

"  Half  a  moment's  extra  boiling  and  the 
flavour  would  have  been  ruined,"  he  exclaimed. 

The  room  was  in  confusion.  The  desk  was 
littered  with  letters  and  papers  pushed  aside  to 
make  room  for  the  samovar.  A  blue  cloisonne 
tray  which  she  had  often  admired  was  filled 
with  the  ashes  and  stubs  of  numberless  cigars. 
She  noticed  drops  of  wax  on  the  green  felt  of 
the  table  as  if  the  person  writing  had  either 
been  careless  or  in  great  haste  in  sealing  letters. 
The  candles  were  burned  down  to  the  sockets, 
and  she  remembered  that  the  count  preferred 
them  to  lamps.  Could  he  have  been  at  work 
all  night  ?  The  pillows  and  afghan  on  the 
lounge  were  in  disorder  as  if  some  one  had 
been  lying  down. 

"  Katrina  will  be  here  in  a  few  minutes,"  he 
said.  "  That  rascal  I  dismissed  made  coffee 
254 


The  Washingtonians  255 

to  perfection."  His  plump  deft  hands  fluttered 
over  the  desk,  putting  things  to  rights,  and 
clearing  more  of  a  space  for  the  breakfast 
dishes. 

"  Will  you  sit  at  the  window  and  watch  for 
a  milk-wagon?  If  you  see  one  coming  tell  me 
and  I'll  try  to  get  some  cream.  Otherwise  we 
shall  have  to  have  our  coffee  clear.  It  is  quite 
spoiled  for  madame  unless  she  has  her  cream." 

She  cleared  away  some  garments  that  were 
on  a  chair  and  sat  down  at  the  window. 
"  What  has  become  of  the  milkman  who  came 
to  your  rescue  in  the  park  ? " 

"  Oh,  he  probably  was  here  early  this  morn- 
ing, but  there  was  no  one  up  to  let  him  in,"  he 
answered. 

She  caught  herself  just  in  time  not  to  utter 
the  question  that  rose  to  her  lips.  Had  they 
then  dismissed  all  their  servants  ? 

"  Why,  of  course,  how  stupid  of  me  !  "  she 
exclaimed.  "  My  carriage  is  right  outside. 
I'll  send  the  coachman  to  the  creamery. 
There's  one  a  block  over  on  the  avenue.  I 
wonder  if  you  would  like  some  fresh  eggs  with 
your  breakfast.  They  are  some  I  gathered 
this  morning  myself,  and  I  was  taking  them  to 
the  hospital." 

"  Here,"  he  said,  "  here  is  the  key  to  the 
front  door.  Throw  it  out  of  the  window  to 
the  fellow  and  tell  him  to  come  up.  I've  never 
been  myself  since  that  night  I  spent  in  the 


256  The  Washingtonians 

park.  I  have  a  stiff  knee.  Tell  him  to  buy  a 
morning  paper.  I  hope  I  am  not  robbing  the 
invalids  at  the  hospital." 

"  I  am  a  most  bountiful  provider,"  she 
answered,  smiling.  "  I'll  just  run  down  to  the 
door.  Tobias  is  a  stupid  old  fellow.  He 
would  be  sure  to  miss  catching  the  key,  and 
would  spend  an  hour  hunting  for  it,  while 
I  would  meanwhile  be  making  a  tableau  of 
myself  in  the  window  trying  to  point  it  out  to 
him."  She  caught  up  a  card-basket  and  hur- 
ried out  of  the  room.  "  I  shall  have  to  take 
this  to  bring  the  eggs  up." 

As  she  came  up  the  stairs  again  after  getting 
the  eggs  and  sending  the  old  coachman  for  the 
cream,  she  glanced  curiously  down  the  hall, 
wondering  why  her  friend  delayed,  and  how 
long  the  tete-a-tete  with  her  husband  was  to 
last. 

"  The  cream  will  be  here  in  a  few  minutes," 
she  said.  "  Have  you  tried  rubbing  your 
knee  ?  I  believe  in  rubbing  and  hot  applica- 
tions for  a  stiff  joint.  I  have  a  very  efficacious 
liniment  which  I  will  send  in  to  you  when  I  get 
home.  I  trust  you  won't  be  offended  if  I 
confess  that  it  is  a  remedy  I  have  used  on  a 
sprained  horse.  It's  a  wonder  you  were  not 
really  ill  after  such  a  night." 

"Ah,  my  dear  Mrs.  Matthews,"  he  cried, 
eloquently,  "  I  have  spent  far  less  peaceful 
ones  in  my  day  !  You  would  not  believe  me, 


The  Washingtonians  257 

but  I  enjoyed  that  night.  It  was  so  many 
years  since  I  had  been  able  to  afford  the  time 
to  watch  the  stars.  I  tried  to  recall  that  classic 
you  English-speaking  people  are  so  fond  of, 
and  which  I  understand  even  your  young  men 
in  love  recite  to  their  sweethearts.  Something 
like  this,  but  there,  I've  forgotten  it.  Anyway 
it  was  all  *  twinkle,  twinkle,  twinkle,'  and  some- 
1  thing  about  a  diamond.  Then  I  amused  my- 
self with  the  policeman.  As  he  followed  his 
beat  around  and  around  the  square,  I  kept  in 
step  with  him  inside  the  picket  fence,  and 
warned  him  that  if  he  leant  up  against  a  post 
to  sleep  I'd  report  him  to  the  authorities  the 
next  day  for  carelessness  while  on  duty.  This 
was  the  first  of  my  remarks  that  struck  him 
as  sane,  and  he  was  on  the  ace  of  letting  me 
out  when  I  lost  my  case  by  cursing  him  in 
Russian." 

Portia  laughed. 

"  But  come,  give  me  a  bit  of  fresh  gossip 
for  a  relish  with  my  coffee,"  he  continued. 
"  After  severe  mental  strain  (I  have  been  work- 
ing all  night,  with  the  exception  of  an  hour's 
sleep),  nothing  amuses  and  entertains  me  more 
than  a  little  scandal.  I  have  found  Haas  an 
entertaining  fellow.  He  knows  the  ins  and 
outs  of  everything.  Have  you  seen  him  within 
the  last  two  or  three  days  ?  No  ?  Well,  then, 
I  probably  know  something  that  you  don't, 
for  I  saw  him  last  night." 


258  The  Washingtonians 

"  The  water  for  the  eggs  is  boiling,"  she 
said.  Any  curiosity  she  might  have  felt  with 
another  person  was  lost  in  her  dislike  of  him. 

"  I  am  waiting  for  the  cream  to  come  before 
dropping  them  in,"  he  replied,  taking  an  easy- 
chair  and  leaning  back  wearily. 

He  took  off  his  glasses  and  rubbed  his  eyes 
with  his  hand.  The  morning  light  revealed 
pitilessly  his  puffy  yellow  face  with  its  starting 
beard,  his  black  disordered  hair  and  light  pro- 
tuberant eyes.  Despite  his  look  of  dissipation, 
she  was  impressed  anew  by  his  appearance  of 
strength,  his  look  of  predominating  intellect, 
his  large  head  and  shoulders,  and  the  massive 
throat  the  turned-down  collar  of  his  dressing- 
gown  exposed. 

If  Katrina  had  wearied  of  him,  Mrs.  Mat- 
thews did  not  wonder  that  she  cared  nothing 
more  for  the  society  of  brilliant  men. 

Polonski  put  on  his  glasses.  "  I  am  as 
blind  as  a  bat  without  them."  He  smiled. 
"  How  charming  you  are,"  he  said,  with  real 
spontaneity,  "  with  your  early  rising  and  your 
gift  of  new-laid  eggs.  You  have  brought  all 
the  freshness  and  sweetness  of  the  country  into 
this  dreary  room."  His  smile,  his  manner, 
was  without  offence.  He  continued  to  look 
at  her  as  pleasantly,  as  impersonally,  as  if  she 
were  a  rose  whose  colour  had  taken  his  fancy. 

"If  Katrina  does  not  come  within  a  few 
minutes  I  shall  go,"  she  thought. 


The  Washingtonians  259 

A  door  opened  and  shut  in  the  upper  hall. 

"  If  that  is  you,  my  child,"  called  out  the 
count,  "will  you  please  go  down  and  take 
the  cream  and  paper  from  Mrs.  Matthews's 
coachman,  who  is  just  coming  ?  " 

When  Countess  Polonski  entered  a  moment 
later  with  the  can  and  newspaper,  Portia  was 
shocked  by  the  change  in  her,  although  she 
smiled  and  greeted  her  friend  as  usual.  It 
was  as  if  the  lurking  weariness,  the  suppressed 
sadness  of  her  nature,  had  become  her  dominant 
expression. 

"  I  did  not  mean  to  keep  you  waiting  so 
long,"  she  explained,  "  but  I  had  been  busy 
packing,  and  I  was  just  beginning  to  dress 
for  the  day  when  you  came.  I  had  on  my 
wrapper." 

"  Packing  !  "  echoed  Portia.  "  Are  you  going 
away  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  answered  the  count ;  "  I  have  been 
called  home  rather  suddenly.  Have  you  read 
the  paper  yet  ?  " 

"  No,  I  haven't,"  she  answered. 

"  Well,  then,  Katrina  shall  read  aloud  to  us 
while  we  have  our  coffee,"  he  continued.  "  I 
have  kept  it  in  the  hot  water,  so  it  is  not  chilled. 
Look,"  holding  up  an  egg,  "  see  how  pretty 
and  pink  the  light  shows  through."  He  rubbed 
it  down  his  cheek.  "It  is  still  warm  and 
smooth  as  a  pearl."  He  dropped  it  into  the 
kettle.  "  How  many  shall  I  cook  for  you  ?  " 


160  The  Washingtonians 

"  I  don't  want  any  breakfast,  thank  you," 
answered  his  wife,  "  but  I  will  take  a  cup  of 
coffee.  Portia,  you  will  not  mind  our  reading 
aloud  ? " 

"  Not  a  bit,"  answered  Mrs.  Matthews.  "  I 
can  stay  only  a  few  moments  longer,  anyway. 
Yes,  I  will  take  cream." 

Countess  Polonski  read  well  with  a  slight 
foreign  accent.  Her  husband,  watch  in  hand, 
timed  the  boiling  of  the  eggs,  and  listened 
attentively.  He  was  a  born  diplomat,  and 
had  the  political  situation  of  every  country 
at  his  finger-tips.  He  watched  the  movements 
of  the  nations  in  the  mood  of  a  chess-player. 

"You  are  cold,  my  child,"  he  said  to  his 
wife. 

The  newspaper  she  held  shook.  She  laid 
it  down.  "  I  am  unable  to  read.  My  eyes 
hurt  me." 

Mrs.  Matthews  did  not  dare  look  at  her. 
She  feared  she  might  see  tears  in  those  dark 
eyes.  She  put  her  cup  and  saucer  on  the 
table.  "  It  was  delicious.  I  wish  I  might 
wait  for  a  second  cup,  but  I  really  must  be 
going.  I  wanted  Katrina  to  go  for  a  drive 
with  me,  but  she  is  too  busy  getting  ready  to 
go,  of  course.  You  must  both  dine  with  us 
before  you  start." 

"  I  will  see  you  to  the  door,"  said  the 
count.  "  Wait  a  second  until  I  take  out 
the  eggs."  As  he  followed  her  into  the  hall 


The  Washingtonians  261 

he  continued,  "  I  have  always  maintained 
that  the  length  of  time  eggs  should  be  boiled 
should  be  in  accordance  with  their  weight. 
The  custom  of  dropping  them  in  for  the 
specified  number  of  minutes  without  any  re- 
gard to  their  size  is  barbarous. 

"  What  a  lovely  air !  "  he  exclaimed,  when 
he  had  opened  the  door. 

"  It  is  beautiful  out,"  she  assented.  "  Good 
morning."  She  felt  as  if  the  door  were  shut 
on  her  with  almost  indecent  haste.  Her  face 
burned  with  anger.  "He  could  scarcely  get 
rid  of  me  quickly  enough,"  she  said  to  herself. 
"  Why  did  I  ever  go  in  there  this  morning  ? 
Poor  Katrina !  I  could  shake  Tom  when  I 
think  of  his  rudeness  to  her  yesterday.  She 
has  enough  to  put  up  with." 

As  she  stepped  into  her  carriage  she  glanced 
up  at  the  windows  of  the  house.  "  I  wish  I 
hadn't  given  him  those  eggs,"  she  murmured; 
"  it  actually  irritates  me  to  think  that  he  will 
enjoy  them." 

Some  blocks  on  she  saw  Mrs.  Haas,  and 
stopped.  "  Elise,"  she  called,  "  come  here. 
I  want  to  speak  to  you.  I  will  take  you 
wherever  you  wish  as  soon  as  I  have  left 
these  things  at  the  hospital." 

"  I  was  wishing  I  might  see  you,"  remarked 
Mrs.  Haas,  as  she  got  in  and  tucked  the  robe 
well  about  her.  "  Isn't  the  day  heavenly  after 
the  downpour  we  had  yesterday  ?  I  sha'n't  go 


262  The  Washingtonians 

into  the  hospital  with  you.  I  am  sorry  for 
sick  people,  but  they  are  repulsive  to  me." 

"  Tell  me  what  has  happened  at  the  Po- 
lonskis',"  demanded  Mrs.  Matthews.  "  I 
know  that  you  know,  for  he  told  me  this 
morning  that  your  husband  had  been  there 
last  night.  Katrina  looks  like  death." 

"  You  don't  mean  to  say  you've  been  there 
this  morning  !  "  cried  her  companion.  "  How 
unfortunate !  For  my  part  I  hope  I  may 
never  see  her  again." 

"  What  are  you  talking  about  ?  "  asked  Mrs. 
Matthews.  "  Never  see  whom  again  ?  Do  you 
mean  Katrina  ? " 

"  I  suppose  you  may  as  well  call  her  that. 
You  certainly  can't  refer  to  her  as  the  Count- 
ess Polonski." 

"  Do  you  mean  that  he  is  an  impostor  ?  " 

"Scarcely  that,"  answered  Mrs.  Haas,  "al- 
though he  might  be  said  to  have  imposed  on 
the  national  courtesy.  But  she  is  an  adven- 
turess." 

"  Go  on,"  said  Mrs.  Matthews.  She  felt 
sick  all  over.  And  Polonski  had  had  the 
audacity  to  ask  his  wife  to  read  the  paper 
aloud  ! 

"  It  seems  it  leaked  out  the  way  those 
things  always  do.  We  never  knew  it,  but 
there  was  a  suspicion  that  a  lot  of  gambling 
went  on  under  Polonski's  roof,  that  one  young 
fellow  was  cheated,  and  forged  to  pay  his  debt. 


The  Washingtonians  263 

His  family  made  it  right  with  his  firm,  and 
sent  him  abroad  to  remain  until  the  trouble 
had  blown  over." 

"  I  know  who  it  was,"  said  Portia,  "  a  fool- 
ish-faced boy,  disagreeable  as  he  could  be.  I 
am  not  surprised  that  he  was  cheated.  I  never 
knew  Polonski  had  anything  to  do  with  that 
matter,  though." 

"  This  boy  heard  something  detrimental  to 
him  over  in  Paris,  and  wrote  home  about  it. 
The  gossip  ran  so  high  that  it  reached  the 
President's  ears,  and  he  had  an  investigation 
made.  The  result  of  it  is  that  the  Russian 
minister  has  been  summoned  home  for  breach 
of  official  etiquette  and  improper  conduct. 
You  know  she  isn't  any  more  married  to  him 
than  you  are." 

Mrs.  Matthews's  face  was  white  with  anger. 
"  It's  a  pretty  serious  thing  when  our  govern- 
ment can  be  so  insulted.  It  shows  how  we 
are  regarded  abroad.  Do  you  suppose  that 
fool  would  have  dared  to  introduce  such  a 
wpman  at  any  foreign  court  ?  " 

"  I  think  he'd  dare  do  anything,"  answered 
Mrs.  Haas,  unconcernedly.  "  I  always  thought 
him  very  entertaining.  I  don't  think  he's  a 
fool." 

"  I'm  not  surprised,"  continued  her  com- 
panion, bitterly.  "  We're  so  provincial  that 
foreigners  mistake  our  rawness  for  stupidity, 
and  think  because  we  are  too  decent  our- 


264  The  Washingtonians 

selves  to  be  on  the  outlook  for  immorality  in 
others  that  we  are  to  be  imposed  upon,  and 
insulted  with  perfect  impunity.  I  don't  wonder. 
Look  at  the  couple  in  the  White  House  this 
moment.  I  suppose  he  is  a  man  of  ability, 
but  you  could  scarcely  call  him  a  man  of 
fine  breeding.  It  seems  to  be  against  our 
republican  institutions  of  late  years  to  allow 
gentle  people  to  occupy  government  posi- 
tions. How  long  has  Mr.  Haas  known  about 
this  ? " 

"  For  some  weeks,  but  he  was  bound  by  his 
word  not  to  let  any  one  suspect  that  things 
were  going  wrong,  so  he  couldn't  warn  you  not 
to  see  anything  more  of  them.  The  matter  is 
to  be  hushed  up  as  far  as  possible.  Not  a  line 
has  been  given  to  the  press  as  yet.  That  is 
why  Count  Polonski  has  been  going  to  and 
from  New  York.  He's  been  trying  to  get 
influential  friends  to  intercede  with  the  Presi- 
dent. But  of  course  it  was  of  no  use.  Wil- 
helm  was  there  last  night,  and  he  said  everything 
was  in  confusion,  that  the  count  had  sent  away 
all  the  servants  so  he  wouldn't  have  them  gos- 
siping and  spying,  and  he  made  his  wife,  only 
she  isn't  his  wife,  write  letters  and  read  over 
and  destroy  others  all  night.  You  know  how 
he  depends  on  her,  as  his  eyesight  is  so  poor. 
They  are  now  waiting  for  their  passports. 
Wilhelm  only  told  me  last  night." 

"  I  wonder  he  let  me  in,"  said  Portia,  "  I 


The  Washingtonians  265 

suppose  my  persistent  ringing  made  him  think 
I  might  be  a  messenger." 

The  carriage  stopped  in  front  of  the  hospital 
and  she  let  the  coachman  carry  in  the  basket 
she  had  brought.  She  had  no  heart  to  go  in 
and  see  the  soldiers. 

Mrs.  Haas  wiped  her  eyes.  "  It  has  almost 
made  me  ill.  Wilhelm  gave  me  some  money 
to  go  shopping  to  see  if  it  wouldn't  cheer  me 
up.  I  was  fond  of  and  I  admired  her,  too, 
although  I  can  see  now  that  her  beauty  had  no 
refinement.  Only  yesterday  afternoon  we  three 
seemed  such  good  friends.  Even  if  I  could 
find  it  in  my  heart  to  forgive  her  terrible  mis- 
take, I  couldn't  forget  that  she  had  deceived 
both  you  and  me." 

Her  friend  turned  on  her  irritably.  "  Have 
you  no  common  sense,  Elise?  How  was  she 
to  avoid  deceiving  us  ?  It  was  consistent  with 
the  part  she  had  to  play.  If  you  once  live  on 
a  false  basis,  you'll  find  it  isn't  permitted  you 
to  be  squeamish  in  regard  to  lesser  virtues. 
Don't  call  her  to  account  for  deceiving  us. 
That's  the  least  of  her  fault.  I  have  no  doubt 
that  she  loved  me,  and  I  think  she  was  fond  of 
you." 

Mrs.  Haas  struggled  not  to  cry.  "  Why  do 
you  speak  so  to  me  ?  I  haven't  done  anything, 
have  I  ?  I  tried  to  be  charitable.  If  I  saw 
her  on  the  street  I'd  speak  to  her.  But  I'm 
ashamed  I  ever  had  anything  to  do  with  her. 


266  The  Washingtonians 

I  don't  want  to  see  her  or  touch  her,  or  speak 
to  her  ever  again." 

"  Hush,"  said  Mrs.  Matthews,  "  here  comes 
the  man  back.  Where  do  you  want  to  go  ? 
To  your  dressmaker's  ?  Very  well."  She 
gave  the  direction  to  the  coachman  and  they 
drove  away.  She  looked  at  the  other's  pale 
little  face  under  the  sweep  of  the  black  velvet 
hat.  "  She  has  no  blood  in  her,"  she  thought, 
and  she  recalled  how  her  companion  had  run 
away  the  previous  afternoon. 

"What  are  you  laughing  at,  Portia?"  said 
Mrs.  Haas,  brightening.  "  How  did  she  act 
when  you  saw  her  this  morning?  Did  she 
seem  ashamed  ?  " 

Portia  thought  of  the  trembling  hands  that 
could  not  hold  the  paper.  "  I  don't  know," 
she  answered,  shortly.  "  I  didn't  think  of 
prying  into  her  emotions." 

She  left  Mrs.  Haas  at  her  dressmaker's,  and 
then  went  directly  back  to  the  house  she  had 
so  recently  left.  She  wished  to  see  her  friend 
once  more  to  tell  her  that  she  knew  all,  and 
that  she  had  come  to  say  good-bye.  She  went 
up  the  stairs  and  rang  the  bell.  After  several 
moments  she  heard  cautious  steps  inside  the 
hall.  There  was  an  almost  imperceptible  click 
as  a  key  was  turned  in  the  lock.  She  waited, 
then  realised  that  she  had  been  locked  out. 
She  rapped  imperiously  on  the  glass  and  with 
growing  anger  rang  and  rang  the  bell. 


The  Washingtonians  267 

She  stopped  in  a  kind  of  panic.  She  could 
not  have  explained  why,  but  suddenly  she  be- 
came convinced  that  Polonski  stood  behind 
the  door  waiting  for  her  to  go.  She  was  terri- 
fied. Such  weakness  overcame  her  that  she 
put  her  hand  on  the  railing  to  steady  herself. 
Then  she  hurried  away,  unable  to  control  her 
fear  of  that  presence  she  knew  was  watching 
her  from  behind  the  curtained  glass.  She  was 
conscious  of  his  rage  at  her  persistence,  and  of 
his  enjoyment  over  her  utter  discomfiture. 


Chapter   XIX 

MRS.  MATTHEWS  went  directly  home, 
possessed  by  the  one  desire  to  see  her 
husband.  All  anger  vanished  in  longing  for  his 
sympathy.  She  thought  of  his  loyalty  and  can- 
dour, his  fine  bearing  as  a  soldier,  his  chivalry, 
and  she  contrasted  him  mentally  with  Polonski. 
As  she  recalled  the  Russian's  insolence,  his  un- 
tidy figure,  his  unwholesome  yellow  skin,  and 
the  disconcerting  gaze  of  his  protuberant  eyes, 
a  wave  of  physical  revulsion  swept  over  her. 
Yet  she  had  not  experienced  this  disgust  of 
his  personality  until  now.  She  had  disliked 
him  because  she  both  feared  and  admired  his 
wit  and  resented  his  thinly  veiled  insolence 
toward  the  government,  yet  she  would  have 
scorned  herself  had  she  been  unjust  to  the 
ability  of  such  a  man  because  of  his  lack  of 
beauty.  Now  he  was  hideous  in  her  eyes  and 
she  wondered  that  she  had  ever  so  much  as 
touched  his  hand  without  shuddering.  She 
had  her  father's  strong  and  simple  ideals  of 
morality  and  much  of  his  unsuspicious  attitude 
toward  the  world.  The  revelation  in  regard 
to  the  life  Polonski  had  been  leading  trans- 


The  Washingtonians  269 

formed  him  at  once  into  an  indecent  person, 
and  her  face  burned  at  the  recollection  of  the 
half-hour  or  so  that  she  had  spent  with  him  in 
the  library  that  very  morning.  Mingled  with 
this  condemnation  of  him  was  the  irritated  con- 
sciousness that  he  had  outwitted  her  and  not 
allowed  her  to  see  his  wife  alone. 

"  His  wife,  only  she  isn't  his  wife."  The 
phrase  Mrs.  Haas  had  used  reechoed  in  her 
mind.  Toward  her  whose  disgrace  was  that 
she  was  not  his  wife,  Portia  felt  no  bitterness. 
She  had  been  her  only  intimate  friend,  the  only 
woman  to  whom  she  had  ever  accorded  a  deep 
personal  devotion.  Those  hours  of  pleasant 
friendship  were  not  to  be  undone.  They  had 
engendered  moments  of  spiritual  insight  much 
more  potent  to  the  revelation  of  real  character 
than  any  amount  of  confession.  The  disgrace 
that  had  befallen  did  not  convince  her  that 
Countess  Polonski  —  she  would  always  con- 
tinue to  think  of  her  by  that  name  —  was 
either  a  bad  or  sensual  woman,  and  she  be- 
lieved that  she  had  fallen  a  victim  to  Polonski 
through  the  appeal  he  made  to  her  intellectu- 
ally. He  must  have  fascinated  her.  But  how 
could  a  woman  of  intelligence,  of  native  refine- 
ment, ever  consent  to  live  with  a  man  to  whom 
she  was  not  married?  It  was  impossible  for 
her  to  conceive  of  such  a  temptation. 

"  I  would  have  left  him,"  she  thought,  in- 
dignantly. "  I  would  have  given  him  my  opinion 


The  Washingtonians 


of  him  and  left,  if  I  had  to  work  my  fingers 
to  the  bone  in  somebody's  kitchen  to  get  my 
bread  and  butter  !  " 

As  she  puzzled  over  this,  there  came  the 
thought  that  her  poor  friend  might  have  had 
the  pathetic  ideal  that  long  years  of  companion- 
ship might  impart  some  pitiful  dignity,  some 
faint  reflection  of  the  faithfulness  of  marriage 
to  the  relationship.  And  this  surmise,  in  spite 
of  her  knowledge  of  such  disgrace,  awakened 
in  Mrs.  Matthews  a  sad  respect  for  the  other's 
sustained  wit  and  courage.  At  least  she  was 
no  coward. 

To  her  relief,  her  husband  was  at  home. 
She  opened  the  library  door  and  looked  in. 
He  was  at  the  table  writing. 

"  Will  you  please  come  up  to  my  room, 
Tom  ?  I  want  to  speak  to  you." 

He  nodded,  but  did  not  lift  his  eyes  to  meet 
her  gaze.  "  Is  it  anything  of  importance  ?  " 
he  asked.  "  I  am  quite  busy." 

Disturbed  as  she  was,  she  could  not  repress 
a  smile  at  his  air  of  injured  dignity.  But  this 
exhibition  of  almost  boyish  naivete  was  refresh- 
ing after  the  insolence  she  had  just  encountered. 
She  stood  a  moment,  her  hand  on  the  knob 
of  the  half-open  door.  How  good  he  was  ! 
How  incapable  of  deception,  with  his  honest 
frown  and  refusal  to  meet  her  glance  !  She 
observed  his  well-brushed  hair,  his  careful 
uniform  that  spoke  well  for  the  proverbial 


The  Washingtonians  271 

neatness  of  the  military  man,  and  felt  an  im- 
pulse of  thankfulness  to  good  providence  that 
he  did  not  go  around  the  house  attired  in  a 
soiled  dressing-gown  and  slippers. 

"  Don't  let  me  hurry  you,"  she  answered, 
"  I  shall  be  up-stairs  in  our  room  anyway,  so 
come  when  you  are  through."  She  drew  the 
door  to  and  he  was  left  alone. 

He  wrote  no  more,  but  sat  thinking,  holding 
the  pen  idly  in  his  fingers.  At  last  he  laid  it 
down,  put  away  the  paper  he  had  been  using, 
closed  the  inkstand  and  straightened  the  blot- 
ter, then  rose  to  leave  the  room.  But  when 
nearly  to  the  door  he  turned  and  went  back. 
He  would  not  go  up-stairs.  He  had  struggled 
so  often  to  bear  himself  coldly  toward  his  wife, 
and  her  first  smile  had  invariably  melted  his 
mood  to  tenderness.  It  should  not  happen 
again.  His  love  was  getting  to  be  a  slavish 
thing,  and  unmanned  him.  But  he  could  not 
remain  in  the  house  with  the  consciousness 
that  she  was  in  their  room  waiting  for  him. 
He  would  go  for  a  walk.  He  went  into  the 
hall  and  put  on  his  hat.  He  closed  the  front 
door  softly,  dreading  that  she  might  hear  and 
call  him.  The  action  shamed  him.  Should  a 
man  then  be  afraid  in  his  own  home?  He 
opened  the  door  again  and  closed  it  with  a 
decisive  bang. 

Beginning  with  the  first  months  of  their 
marriage  he  had  had  these  moods  of  despair. 


272  The  Washingtonians 

Never  had  he  been  first  in  his  wife's  thoughts. 
Her  father  possessed  her  supreme  devotion. 
It  was  his  peculiar  virtues  she  loved,  his  ability 
that  she  admired.  Her  husband  was  on  a 
lower,  if  more  intimate,  plane  of  her  affections. 
Before  his  engagement  to  her,  Matthews  had 
not  lacked  the  vanity  of  a  handsome  man,  and 
he  had  been  obliged  to  learn  the  bitter  and 
disillusionising  lesson  that  his  wife  regarded 
his  appearance  quite  impersonally,  and  failed 
to  appreciate  that  he  might  have  been  attract- 
ive to  other  women.  And  Matthews,  com- 
paring his  own  wholesome  good  looks  with 
his  father-in-law's  magnificent  classic  type,  de- 
spaired. He  sometimes  cherished  the  extrava- 
gant notion  of  telling  his  wife  she  must  choose 
between  her  father  and  him. 

Against  his  judgment  her  faith  in  West's 
political  future  had  impressed  him  these  last 
weeks,  and  he  began  to  fear  that  the  Secretary 
might  receive  the  nomination.  The  probability 
haunted  him.  As  it  was,  Portia  loved  her 
father  to  idolatry,  and  did  he  fulfil  her  tre- 
mendous ambitions,  he  knew  that  he,  her 
husband,  would  become  merely  a  figurehead 
in  her  eyes,  a  satellite  shining  in  West's  reflected 
glory. 

He  endeavoured  to  think  that  his  loyalty  to 
the  President,  his  real  conviction  that  West 
would  not  make  a  good  executive,  were  his 
sole  reasons  for  desiring  his  defeat.  Why 


The  Washingtonians  273 

must  the  miserable  consciousness  of  an  un- 
controllable jealousy  destroy  all  the  sweetness 
of  virtue  in  having  held  steadfastly  to  his 
honest  opinion  and  having  resisted  all  appeals 
from  his  wife?  He  almost  failed  to  know 
himself  in  the  struggles  through  which  he 
passed.  Portia's  ambitions  had  not  been  with- 
out an  evil  and  insidious  effect  upon  him  who 
most  of  all  professed  to  scorn  them.  He  had 
been  alarmed  to  find  himself  speculating  upon 
the  honour  and  glory  of  the  family  should 
West  realise  success.  He  imagined  his  wife 
presiding  at  the  head  of  the  nation ;  he  saw 
himself  envied  because  of  his  near  relationship 
to  the  President.  Was  it  any  wonder  that 
Portia  thought  their  position  would  be  one  of 
unlimited  influence?  His  money  would  help. 
He  had  made  one  fortune.  He  could  make 
another.  Did  not  any  business  venture  of  his 
succeed?  Was  not  his  the  golden  touch?  He 
caught  himself  up.  Where  was  he  drifting? 
What  was  he  thinking? 

He  stopped  still,  and  looked  about  him  like 
one  dazed. 

"  My  God,"  he  exclaimed,  "  what  am  1 
thinking  of!  " 

He  had  not  realised  consciously  the  road  he 
had  taken,  nor  how  far  he  had  walked  until 
now.  The  Soldiers'  Home  was  less  than  a 
mile  away.  He  knew  by  the  distance  he  had 
gone  that  he  should  be  very  tired,  and  he  sat 


274  The  Washingtonians 

down  on  the  trunk  of  a  fallen  tree.  His 
wound  did  not  trouble  him  from  his  fast  walk- 
ing, but  he  felt  weak.  It  seemed  to  him  as 
though  he  had  passed  through  a  great  moral 
struggle,  from  which  he  now  emerged  trium- 
phant spiritually,  but  lacking  his  old  confidence 
in  his  unyielding  honour. 

"  Portia,  Portia,"  he  said  aloud. 

Until  this  moment  he  had  never  known 
what  it  was  to  look  forward  to  death  gratefully, 
but  his  strength  in  his  own  integrity  was 
shaken.  A  curious  dread  of  the  future  came 
upon  him.  Suppose  he  should  have  no 
strength  to  meet  fresh  temptations.  He 
thought  it  must  bring  great  peace  to  a  person 
when  death  put  an  end  to  the  perplexed 
struggle  of  life.  He  had  recognised  in  time 
the  insidious  temptation  the  possibility  of 
his  father-in-law's  election  had  brought ;  but 
suppose  he  should  not  see  so  clearly  another 
time  ?  He  was  a  man  of  too  simple  and  direct  a 
nature  to  put  strange  and  morbid  thoughts  at 
their  true  value.  He  failed  to  appreciate  that 
they  often  resulted  from  depression,  either 
physical  or  mental. 

The  sunshine  was  too  warm  and  pleasant 
for  him  to  be  cold.  Had  he  been  in  the  least 
chilly  he  would  have  risen  and  walked,  despite 
his  weariness.  His  strong  sense  of  duty  would 
not  allow  him  to  neglect  himself,  although 
he  was  indifferent  to  his  own  well-being,  and 


The  Washingtonians  275 

felt  now  that  no  love  of  life  flourished  in 
him.  But  he  had  the  soldier's  instinct  to  hold 
himself  in  readiness  to  serve  at  a  moment's 
notice.  A  subtle  change  had  developed  in 
him  since  he  first  went  to  the  war.  The 
worried  lines  that  business  anxieties  had  made 
in  his  face  were  gone  ;  his  kindly  expression 
had  given  way  to  sternness ;  and  he  bore 
himself  like  a  man  who  made  a  virtue  of 
authority.  This  latter  quality  in  him  neither 
Portia  nor  her  father  understood.  She  was 
imperious  in  a  feminine  way,  demanding  per- 
sonal homage.  West  could  never  learn  to  be 
subordinate  to  those  above  him,  and  would  not 
receive  a  word  of  advice  or  criticism.  But  he 
expected  absolute  and  unquestioning  obedience 
from  his  official  inferiors. 

Matthews  had  the  larger  justice  of  the  sol- 
dier in  this  respect,  and  if  he  exacted  entire 
obedience  from  his  men,  he  also  respected, 
in  equal  measure,  the  authority  of  his  super- 
iors. 

He  had  tried  in  vain  to  adjust  his  thought 
to  his  wife's  way  of  living,  to  sympathise  with 
her  point  of  view.  In  no  spirit  of  criticism 
toward  her  he  was,  nevertheless,  obliged  to 
admit  to  himself  that  they  did  not  seem  fitted 
to  mutual  happiness.  He  recalled  wistfully 
his  old  dreams.  He  had  never  imagined  mar- 
riage without  children.  They  seemed  to  be- 
long to  the  eternal  fitness  of  things.  There 


276  The  Washingtonians 

was  something  melancholy  to  him  in  the 
thought  that  he  had  no  little  girl  who  would 
perpetuate  Portia's  beauty ;  no  son  to  inherit 
his  name  and  fortune  and  the  traditions  of  his 
family. 

Secretary  West  had  never  desired  a  son ;  he 
had  no  personal  regard  for  the  nephews  he 
was  educating,  and  it  was  not  likely  that  the 
idea  of  grandchildren  appealed  to  him.  As 
for  Mrs.  Matthews,  she  felt  that  the  tiny  flut- 
tering hands  of  a  baby  would  push  her  a  step 
further  on  in  life,  and  that  her  own  personality 
might  fade  in  contrast  to  the  aggressive  strength 
of  youth. 

To  these  two  great  egoists,  who  loved  the 
present  because  they  took  part  in  it,  and  shrank 
from  the  idea  of  a  future  which  knew  them 
not,  Matthews's  unuttered  longing  would  have 
been  incomprehensible. 

When  at  last  it  dawned  upon  Mrs.  Mat- 
thews that  her  husband  had  purposely  dis- 
regarded her  request,  and  had  even  left  the 
house  with  no  word  of  explanation,  she  was 
alarmed.  It  did  not  enter  her  mind  that  his 
anger  would  carry  him  to  such  extremes,  and 
the  nervous  condition  into  which  the  Polonski 
affair  had  thrown  her  made  her  apprehensive 
of  some  fresh  evil.  She  became  confident 
that  his  always  tender  consideration  made  him 
shrink  from  telling  her  anything  that  might 
wound  her.  Then  she  recalled  his  rudeness 


The  Washingtonians  277 

toward  Countess  Polonski  the  previous  after- 
noon, and  this  seemed  the  solution  of  his 
strange  manner.  He,  too,  must  have  heard 
the  scandal,  and  dreaded  to  tell  her.  Her 
relief  was  so  great  when  she  had  settled  upon 
this  reason,  that  she  felt  a  return  of  energy  and 
good  spirits.  Luncheon  had  already  been 
waiting  an  hour.  She  went  down-stairs  and 
read  the  paper  while  she  waited  for  fresh  tea 
to  be  made.  She  decided  to  write  to  Virginia 
and  tell  her  all  the  news.  No,  she  could  not 
write  to  that  child  of  such  a  shameful  thing. 
She  would  merely  tell  her  that  Polonski  had 
been  recalled  to  Russia,  and  add  the  fact  of 
La  Cerf's  death. 

At  four  o'clock  that  afternoon  she  was 
surprised  by  a  call  from  Senator  Chadwick. 
He  had  written  to  her  that  he  would  not  be 
home  until  the  early  part  of  the  following 
week. 

"  You  don't  know  how  I  have  missed  you," 
she  cried,  as  she  shook  hands  cordially  with 
him.  "  There  have  been  one  hundred  and  one 
little  things  I  have  wanted  to  talk  about  to  you. 
I  think  politics  the  most  fascinating  thing  in 
the  world.  Do  sit  down  and  tell  me  all  about 
your  trip,  and  what  brought  you  home  sooner 
than  you  expected.  Of  course  you  want  a 
cup  of  tea  ?  " 

"  Of  course,"  he  answered,  smiling  with  a 
passing  thought  of  the  last  time  he  had  had 


278  The  Washingtonians 

tea  in  that  very  room  when  Countess  Polonski 
had  been  present. 

He  was  looking  well  and  his  apparent  good 
spirits  were  infectious.  "  Have  you  observed 
my  new  hat?"  he  asked,  lifting  it  from  the 
chair  beside  him.  "  I  had  to  buy  it  on  my 
way  out  here.  My  former  one  was  a  sight. 
Offensive  eggs  do  leave  their  mark,  you  know, 
even  on  the  best  of  things,  and  that  was  a 
good  silk  hat  of  mine.  An  unfriendly  stone 
broke  the  top.  Fortunately  my  head  didn't 
occupy  the  entire  hat.  I  got  things  started 
pretty  well  back  in  Ohio,  and  I  thought  I'd 
better  come  home  and  not  delay  that  other 
matter." 

"  I  have  already  seen  the  proof,"  she  told 
him. 

He  nodded,,  "  Now  tell  me  about  Green- 
leaf.  I  want  to  get  hold  of  him.  If  we  can 
get  him  to  go  to  Ohio  and  make  a  speech  for 
your  father  at  the  convention,  we'll  be  pretty 
sure  to  win  out." 

"  I  think  we  can,"  she  answered,  "  for  that 
matter  I'm  perfectly  willing  to  go  up  to  New 
York  and  see  him  myself.  But  tell  me  first 
about  your  trip.  Did  my  father  seem  to  be 
popular  in  the  country  districts  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  he  answered  ;  "  I  wish  I  could  have 
remained  to  make  more  speeches,  but  I  have 
to  be  at  the  Senate  to  see  about  the  passing  of 
a  bill  I  have  been  working  for,  and  I  had  to 


The  Washingtonians  279 

cut  my  time  short.  I  enjoyed  it.  I  love 
a  campaign.  The  excitement  of  it  gets  into 
my  blood.  Don't  I  look  well  ?  And  yet 
I  have  been  through  enough  to  tire  out  most 
anybody.  When  I  entered  a  town  I  always 
made  a  speech  to  the  crowd  at  the  depot; 
then  a  committee  hustled  me  off  to  a  hotel  for 
supper,  put  me  on  a  lounge  for  a  cat-nap  after- 
ward, and  woke  me  in  time  to  speak  at  the  usual 
wigwam.  I  was  generally  despatched  on  the 
midnight  train,  if  there  happened  to  be  a  train  at 
such  an  hour.  But  I  loved  it.  Have  you  any 
idea  what  I  mean  when  I  say  that  the  sound  of 
my  own  voice  intoxicates  me  and  carries  me  on 
to  say  things  that  I  hadn't  even  thought  of 
before  ? " 

Mrs.  Matthews  caught  the  light  of  excite- 
ment in  his  eyes.  For  the  first  time  she  found 
him  personally  interesting.  After  all,  this  con- 
ventional little  man  had  a  touch  of  genius. 
She  had  never  heard  him  speak,  but  she  began 
to  understand  why  it  was  that  he  had  been 
called  "  the  silver-tongued." 

"  The  instant  I  face  my  audience  I  can  feel 
a  thrill  go  over  me.  I  get  giddy,  light-headed, 
if  you  will,  but  I  know  I  am  speaking  well, 
that  the  excitement  is  making  me  sharp  men- 
tally, and  I  know  I  have  the  people  with  me. 
I'm  inclined  to  be  stiff  in  company  —  " 

"  Not  stiff,"  she  interrupted,  her  eyes  twink- 
ling, "only  a  little  prim,  Senator  Chadwick. 


280  The  Washingtonians 

And,  really,  I  wouldn't  let  it  worry  me.  Such 
primness  seems  the  outward  and  visible  sign 
of  an  inward  grace.  Now,  you  would  never 
be  suspected  of  laxness."  Her  mind  still  ran 
on  Polonski  and  his  dressing-gown. 

"  Thank  you,"  he  answered,  a  trifle  puzzled. 
He  suspected  Mrs.  Matthews  of  always  trying 
to  say  epigrammatic  things,  and  it  did  not 
seem  worth  while  to  him.  His  admiration 
for  her  was  based  solely  on  her  social  success 
and  not  on  her  mental  accomplishments. 
"  Well,  anyway,  I  used  to  be  worse  than  I  am 
now.  I  didn't  go  with  the  kind  of  people  I 
do  now.  This  last  week  I  visited  the  town 
where  I  was  raised,"  shaking  his  head  with  an 
introspective  look,  "  and,  I  tell  you  it  was 
awful.  Nice  people,  but  plain,  no  ideas  out- 
side their  local  interests.  I  visited  the  dry- 
goods  store  where  I  used  to  clerk.  I  never 
was  more  depressed,  nor  so  glad  to  get  away 
from  a  place  in  all  my  life  before.  And  I 
have  to  thank  my  voice  for  having  gotten 
away.  It  happened  like  this.  One  of  the 
girls  got  up  a  Shakespeare  Club  and  I  joined. 
Then  I  began  to  realise  what  it  meant  to  feel 
words  and  phrases.  I  used  to  walk  out  toward 
the  country  of  an  evening  so  as  to  get  away 
from  people  on  the  streets,  and  recite  aloud 
the  phrases  that  had  fascinated  me.  And  it  was 
my  own  voice  that  seemed  to  be  saying  to  me 
to  go  away  and  make  a  name  for  myself,  so 


The  Washingtonians  281 

that  was  how  it  was  that  I  went  to  Cincinnati 
and  studied  law." 

She  had  never  liked  him  better  than  at  this 
moment.  He  was  so  cheerful  and  plucky, 
possessing  a  childlike  simplicity  in  spite  of  his 
political  trickiness.  He  did  not  seem  quite  a 
gentleman ;  his  dress  was  too  exquisite,  his 
manner  too  careful.  But  he  had  the  finest 
speaking  voice  she  had  ever  heard.  The  talk 
reverted  once  more  to  the  political  situation, 
and  as  he  ran  over  some  of  his  experiences  in 
detail  her  confidence  in  her  father's  chances 
deepened.  She  was  apt  to  be  too  easily  con- 
vinced, having  in  common  with  the  Secretary 
himself  too  great  an  optimism,  too  strong  a 
conceit  in  personal  success  to  regard  the  dis- 
couraging side. 

Chadwick  also  failed  to  appreciate  fully  that 
he  based  his  confidence  on  one-sided  grounds, 
and  he  did  not  put  a  proper  value  on  his 
audience.  It  was  his  political  allies  who  came 
to  hear  him  speak  and  inflated  his  judgment 
by  their  vigorous  cheering.  While  speaking 
he  never  took  seriously  into  account  the  fact 
that  his  rival,  in  another  part  of  the  town,  was 
holding  forth  to  an  equally  enthusiastic  audience 
of  the  opposite  party. 

At  last  he  rose  to  go.  He  put  his  empty 
teacup  and  saucer  on  the  tray.  "  I  am  re- 
minded of  that  snowy  afternoon  this  winter 
when  you  made  tea  for  Countess  Polonski  and 


282  The  Washingtonians 

me.  What  has  become  of  that  pretty  kitten  ?  " 
He  still  retained  the  picture  it  made  in  the 
Russian's  lap,  purring  because  of  the  warmth 
of  the  fire  and  the  gentle  white  hand  that 
stroked  it. 

"  I  gave  it  away,"  she  answered.  Hei;  ex- 
pression impressed  him  as  strange.  For  the 
time  she  had  almost  forgotten  the  Polonski 
affair.  Chadwick  could  not  know.  He  had 
only  just  come  into  the  city.  "  Sit  down 
again,"  she  said. 

He  did  so  with  the  feeling  that  some  dis- 
aster impended. 

As  briefly  as  she  could  she  told  him  what 
had  occurred. 

He  was  silent  some  moments.  She  had 
never  known  a  person  could  turn  quite  so 
white.  At  last  he  looked  up. 

"  Mrs.  Matthews,"  he  said,  in  the  tone  of 
one  making  a  simple  statement,  "  I  loved  her." 

He  buried  his  face  in  his  hands. 

She  stood  looking  at  him.  Suddenly  she 
seized  hold  of  his  arm,  and  shook  him. 

"  Don't,"  she  cried  ;  "  if  you  love  her  go  to 
her.  She  needs  you." 


Chapter   XX 

QECRETARY  WEST  was  leaving  his 
j^  office  the  next  day  somewhat  earlier  in 
the  afternoon  than  usual.  Prentiss  was  to 
remain  longer,  however,  to  finish  some  corre- 
spondence. 

"  I  may  be  home  late  to  dinner,"  he  said, 
looking  up  from  his  work.  "  I  want  to  clear 
things  away,  and  start  fresh  to-morrow." 

It  struck  the  Secretary  that  he  looked  pale. 
"  You  mustn't  work  too  hard,  David,"  he 
said,  kindly.  "It  doesn't  do  to  exhaust  one's 
strength." 

"  Oh,  I'm  wiry,"  answered  Prentiss,  cheer- 
fully. "  I  get  tired  out  and  I  look  as  though 
I'd  been  dragged  through  a  knot-hole,  but  I 
never  get  downright  sick." 

"  Young  men  of  spirit  all  talk  alike  in  that 
way,"  West  rejoined.  "  Well,  it's  a  fine  thing. 
I  shall  leave  the  carriage  for  you.  I  intend 
to  walk  home.  I  need  some  exercise,  and  it 
is  a  good  stretch.  You  may  overtake  me. 
By  the  way,  you  might  stop  at  the  post-office 
for  the  last  mail." 

He  made  himself  miserable  reading  unfa- 
283 


284  The  Washingtonians 

vourable  articles  about  himself,  and  he  grew 
passionately  angry  over  an  anonymous  letter. 
Nothing  had  occurred  that  day  to  mar  his  seren- 
ity. He  had  not  been  interrupted  by  politi- 
cians or  poor  people  wishing  a  clerkship  in 
the  department,  and  he  had  accomplished  an 
immense  amount  of  work.  The  air  outside 
was  sweet  to  his  nostrils  after  the  close  atmos- 
phere of  the  office,  and  he  felt  a  pleasant  an- 
ticipation of  his  walk  home.  The  sky  was 
clear,  save  for  a  cloud-bank  in  the  west,  and 
he  judged  there  would  be  a  fine  sunset.  Then 
he  remembered  that  the  ground  was  damp 
from  recent  rain,  and  being  of  careful  habit, 
he  went  back,  and  put  on  the  extra  pair  of 
goloshes  he  kept  in  his  office  closet. 

"It  isn't  going  to  rain,  is  it?"  inquired 
Prentiss. 

"  I  think  not,"  said  the  Secretary,  c<  I  think 
not.  If  Senator  Chadwick  looks  in  don't  tell 
him  which  way  I've  gone.  He  has  really 
become  quite  annoying  lately.  If  he  had  his 
way  I  would  not  have  any  time  for  my  duties 
whatever.  I  think  I  may  be  obliged  to  tell 
him  sometime  that  it  is  not  he,  but  Ohio,  who 
will  decide  as  to  my  endorsement.  He  means 
well,  but  he  is  rather  presuming.  I  have  often 
been  astonished  at  Portia's  great  liking  for  him. 
She  had  such  a  fancy,  too,  for  that  Indian,  who 
died  lately.  I  never  could  help  thinking  he  was 
a  negro  dressed  up.  Quite  a  curious  creature." 


The  Washingtonians  285 

As  he  went  down  the  steps  of  the  building, 
drawing  on  his  gloves,  he  repeated  the  last 
phrase  over  to  himself,  "  Quite  a  curious 
creature."  He  wondered  if  Shakespeare  had 
in  mind  some  such  person  when  he  wrote 
"  Othello,"  and  he  tried  to  recall  certain  pas- 
sages. As  he  thus  walked  on  happily  he  be- 
came conscious  of  hurrying  steps  that  paused 
when  they  came  up  with  him.  He  turned 
and  saw  Mr.  Haas,  out  of  breath,  and  red 
in  the  face. 

"  I'm  most  fortunate,"  he  said.  "  I  was 
lucky  enough  to  see  you  when  you  left  the 
Treasury  Building." 

"  If  it  is  a  business,  and  not  a  personal 
matter,  I  must  ask  you  to  come  to  see  me 
to-morrow,"  West  rejoined.  "  I'm  on  my 
way  home.  We  are  going  to  have  a  fine  sun- 
set. Have  you  observed  how  much  longer 
the  days  are  growing  ? " 

"  I  will  walk  along  with  you,"  Haas  volun- 
teered. "It  isn't  a  business  matter,  but  it  is 
very  important.  I  must  have  a  statement 
from  you  to-night  for  my  paper." 

"  I  won't  give  you  any,"  said  the  Secretary, 
irritably,  "I'll  have  nothing  to  do  with  man- 
aging newspapers." 

"You  will  make  a  grave  mistake  if  you 
never  temporise,"  Haas  replied,  with  some 
spirit  and  overheated  by  his  run  down  the 
street.  Much  as  he  respected  the  Secretary 


286  The  Washingtonians 

and  believed  in  his  efficiency,  he  was  not  in- 
clined to  allow  him  to  treat  him  as  an  inferior 
or  a  mere  newspaper  man.  They  were  both 
gentlemen,  and  Haas  was  superior  in  point 
of  family.  "  You  can't  afford  to  dismiss  the 
Chronicle  in  that  way.  Mr.  Greenleaf  has 
been  especially  kind  to  you,  and  — " 

"  Please  confine  yourself  to  facts,  sir,"  West 
requested.  "  Mr.  Greenleaf  has  not  been  kind 
to  me.  I  am  not  indebted  to  him  for  any 
favour  whatsoever.  He  considered  me,  so  I 
was  led  to  judge  from  his  editorial,  to  be  a 
strong  candidate  for  the  Presidency  if  I  am 
nominated,  and  he  has  honoured  my  public 
character  sufficiently  to  recommend  me  to  the 
people.  His  attitude  was  not  taken  upon  any 
basis  of  personal  relation.  Consequently  I  shall 
not  depart  from  my  usual  custom  of  refusing 
to  grant  all  newspaper  interviews.  I  neither 
favour  nor  disfavour  the  Chronicle  in  this  re- 
spect. I  have  been  sufficiently  misquoted  in 
the  papers  to  make  me  a  martyr." 

"  Nonsense,"  retorted  the  other,  heartily, 
"  nonsense,  my  dear  Secretary,  you're  no  mar- 
tyr. Every  paper  pokes  fun  at  public  men 
when  it  doesn't  do  worse.  It's  your  American 
sense  of  humour.  When  I  first  came  to  this 
country  I  thought  the  condition  of  things 
alarming  and  that  cut-throats  and  thieves 
held  the  best  offices.  After  awhile  I  learned 
it  didn't  mean  anything  and  that  a  paper 


The  Washingtonians  287 

quieted  down  after  the  man  it  had  opposed 
was  elected,  and  seemed  to  regard  him  as  a 
pretty  good  fellow." 

"  Then  I  have  nothing  to  say  save  that  our 
views  are  not  the  same,"  West  answered. 

Haas  was  perplexed.  He  was  not  so  anx- 
ious to  get  an  interview  for  the  Chronicle  as 
he  was  concerned  for  West's  own  sake  in  the 
matter  that  had  arisen. 

The  two  men  walked  on  in  silence.  The 
Secretary  was  conscious  of  having  had  a  com- 
panion forced  upon  him  when  he  wished  to  be 
alone.  To  him  the  anxious  correspondent  was 
an  unpleasant  type.  He  resented  his  atmos- 
phere of  hurry  and  perpetual  curiosity  in  the 
personal  affairs  of  public  men.  Moreover, 
in  the  case  of  Haas  he  disapproved  of  him 
because  he  made  his  living  in  America 
and  did  not  take  out  his  citizenship  papers. 
His  own  family  had  risen  too  quickly,  and 
autocrat  though  he  was  personally,  his  ideals 
were  too  democratic  for  him  to  sympa- 
thise with  the  German's  love  of  his  ancestral 
home. 

"  You  will  have  to  make  some  statement," 
Haas  repeated.  "  Will  you  write  a  signed 
letter  for  us  ?  " 

"  I  am  always  willing  to  write  such  a  letter 
provided  that  it  will  appear  exactly  as  I  wrote 
it,  with  my  name  given  in  full,  but  I  will  not 
be  interviewed  and  consequently  misrepresented, 


288  The  Washingtonians 

Is  this  matter  an  important  one  that  you  have 
in  mind  ?  " 

"It  is  to  you,  sir.  It  isn't  to  me  except  as 
your  friend,"  replied  the  German,  with  some 
indignation. 

Secretary  West  caught  the  odour  of  flowers 
and  turned  to  see  a  boy  on  the  street  corner 
they  were  turning.  He  beckoned  to  him.  "  I 
think  I  must  take  some  pinks  home  to  my 
niece.  She  is  very  fond  of  them.  Dear  me,  I 
quite  forgot  the  child  was  not  at  home.  Well, 
I  will  take  them  to  Mrs.  Matthews." 

The  boy  put  his  tray  down  on  the  sidewalk 
after  West  had  made  his  selection  and  given 
him  a  dollar.  He  looked  critically  at  his 
customer  with  the  canny  gaze  of  the  street- 
gamin,  then  stooped  and  spun  the  coin  on 
the  brick  sidewalk,  bit  it  with  his  teeth, 
turned  it  over  carefully  in  the  palm  of  his 
hand,  and  finally  handed  it  back  with  a  know- 
ing wink. 

"  Can't  work  that  off  on  me,  gov'nor.  I'll 
take  a  greenback."  Like  many  others,  he 
was  suspicious  of  silver  money,  and  would 
accept  only  the  paper  money  issued  by 
the  government,  upon  the  proposal  of  West, 
as  the  wisest  way  of  solving  the  financial 
problem. 

Haas  laughed.     The  situation  was  delicious. 

West  took  back  the  dollar  and  passed  the 
boy  the  preferred  greenback.  "  Now,  Mr. 


The  Washingtonians  289 

Haas,"  he  resumed,  "  what  is  the  letter  you 
wish  me  to  write  ?  "  His  pleasant  humour  had 
returned  and  he  inhaled  the  odour  of  the  car- 
nations. "  Much  as  I  like  these,"  he  added, 
"  they  can't  compare  with  the  peculiar  spicy 
fragrance  of  the  clove-pinks  my  wife  used  to 
have  in  our  garden."  He  sighed  as  he  recalled 
that  the  little  garden  had  bloomed  but  twice 
under  her  care. 

Haas  was  regarding  him  in  sheer  amaze- 
ment. Had  the  man  no  sense  of  humour; 
did  he  not  see  the  absurdity  of  the  situation, 
that  he,  the  country's  great  financier,  should 
be  suspected  by  a  street-vendor  of  trying  to 
pass  counterfeit  money  ?  But  his  face  showed 
no  trace  of  amusement,  nor,  indeed,  had  he 
been  amused.  The  incident  had  not  made  the 
slightest  impression  upon  him  either  of  amuse- 
ment or  annoyance. 

"  The  letter  I  want  you  to  write,"  said  Haas, 
with  the  resignation  of  despair  at  his  inability 
to  understand  him,  "  is  one  of  explanation  in 
regard  to  the  circular  you  have  issued.  I  fear 
you  did  not  consult  your  more  conservative 
friends  when  you  took  the  step,  and  I  am 
afraid  it  will  turn  out  to  have  been  a  mistake. 
I  speak  frankly,  for  I  am  sorry  and  much  con- 
cerned. It's  so  unlike  your  usual  attitude, 
and  I  foresee  that  the  public  will  demand  an 
explanation.  For  that  matter,  Greenleaf  has 
already  run  across  a  copy  of  it  in  New  York 


290  The  Washingtonians 

and  telegraphed  me  to  obtain  an  interview  with 
you  at  once." 

"  Circular,"  repeated  West,  "  I  know  of  no 
circular." 

"  You  don't  know  of  this  circular !  "  cried 
Haas.  "  Why,  you  must." 

The  Secretary  was  silent,  haughtily  bent  on 
not  repeating  his  denial. 

His  companion  continued  excitedly :  "  If 
they've  issued  it  without  consulting  you  they've 
played  a  low  trick.  It's  a  ridiculous  affair.  And 
you  don't  mean  to  tell  me  you  haven't  even 
seen  it." 

"  I've  seen  nothing,"  he  answered,  his  heart 
quailing.  He  felt  that  he  was  about  to  be 
struck  a  blow  in  the  dark. 

The  street  was  crowded  with  people.  The 
women  invariably  glanced  with  admiration  at 
the  handsome  Secretary,  whose  short-sighted- 
ness prevented  him  from  recognising  his 
friends.  Several  men  had  given  him  a  look 
of  peculiar  sharpness.  He  had  seen  none  of 
this.  The  actual  people,  pushing,  jostling, 
good-natured,  never  existed  for  him  save  on 
paper.  He  passed  through  unconscious  as  to 
whether  the  last  person  going  by  were  a  man 
or  a  woman. 

But  the  alert  correspondent  had  noticed  the 
sharp  glances.  "  I  think  we'd  betLer  turn  down 
this  side  street,"  he  suggested. 

The  Secretary  nodded.     "  I  hope  it's  noth- 


The  Washingtonians  291 

ing  unpleasant,"  he  said,  when  they  had  gone 
a  little  way ;  "  I  hope  it's  nothing  unpleasant, 
Mr.  Haas." 

"  I'm  afraid  it  is,"  was  the  brief  reply. 

The  other  sighed.  "  Something  dishearten- 
ing is  always  cropping  up.  Have  you  a  copy 
of  this  paper  with  you  ?  I  suppose  it  is  some 
campaign  letter." 

Haas  drew  a  folded  paper  from  his  waistcoat 
pocket,  opened  it,  and  passed  it  to  the  Secre- 
tary. 

He  saw  at  the  top  of  two  columns  of  print 
the  italicised  words,  "  For  Private  Circulation 
Only." 

"  It's  been  in  the  hands  of  every  newspaper 
man  and  politician  in  Washington  for  at  least 
two  days,  but  it  didn't  find  its  way  into  print. 
I  didn't  think  of  seeing  you  about  it  until 
Greenleaf  telegraphed,"  explained  Haas. 

West  stood  still  to  read  the  circular.  When 
he  had  finished  he  tore  it  into  strips  and  tossed 
them  away. 

"  I  have  been  made  a  fool  of,"  he  said, 
bitterly. 

Haas  could  have  told  him  much,  but  he  said 
nothing.  He  had  warned  him  from  the  first 
not  to  trust  too  much  to  Chadwick  and  to  his 
set.  In  this  circular  they  had  interpreted  their 
leader  in  the  worst  manner  and  put  him  in  a 
false  position,  from  which  he  could  not  extricate 
himself. 


292  The  Washingtonians 

"  You  can  understand  now  what  sort  of  a 
letter  we  want  for  the  Chronicle.  We  want  an 
explanation  of  the  change  you  had  made  from 
your  usual  conservative  attitude  ;  but  as  it  turns 
out  that  you  didn't  have  anything  to  do  with 
this,  I  think  the  best  thing  will  be  a  denial  on 
your  part.  If  you  do  this  you'll  have  to  go 
back  in  a  way  on  your  own  friends,  for  they've 
gotten  this  up ;  but  —  I  speak  unreservedly, 
Mr.  West — Chadwick  and  his  gang  are  so 
low,  they  wouldn't  mind  a  kick  in  the  face  if 
it  straightened  out  their  idiocy  and  put  you 
right  with  the  public  again.  I  know  them." 

The  Secretary's  face  was  adamant.  "You 
have  been  very  kind  and  loyal,  Mr.  Haas,  and 
I  shall  never  be  able  to  tell  you  how  much 
I  appreciate  your  directness  with  me  at  a  time 
when  other  friends  seem  to  have  played  me 
false.  I  shall  not  act  in  this  matter,  however, 
until  I  have  accorded  them  the  justice  of 
hearing  their  reasons  for  this  unprecedented 
proceeding." 

Haas  left  him  in  despair  at  the  next  corner. 
He  did  not  know  what  to  do.  Then  he  re- 
membered that  Prentiss  might  still  be  at  the 
office.  As  he  hastened  to  the  Treasury  Build- 
ing his  active  mind  outlined  an  article  for  the 
next  morning's  Chronicle.  He  would  say  that 
West  himself  could  not  be  found,  but  his  pri- 
vate secretary  had  expressed  his  amazement  at 
the  circular,  his  belief  that  Mr.  West  knew 


The  Washingtonians  293 

nothing  of  the  matter  and  that  his  friends  had 
acted  without  consulting  him. 

"  I  have  it,"  he  said,  exultantly  ;  "  I'll  save 
him  in  spite  of  himself." 

He  burst  into  the  private  office  where  Pren- 
tiss  was  sitting  without  the  ceremony  of  knock- 
ing. "  Get  on  your  hat  and  come  out  with 
me.  I  want  to  see  you  on  business,  and  I'm 
also  perishing  for  a  glass  of  beer.  We'll  go 
over  to  Casey's  across  the  street." 

Prentiss  put  his  work  away,  rose,  and 
changed  his  office  coat  for  his  street  attire 
and  put  on  his  hat.  "  Wait  till  I  get  my  cane 
in  the  next  room  and  lock  up  things.  How 
jolly  you  look,  Haas,"  he  added,  with  his  quick 
smile.  "  I'm  tired  out.  How  do  you  think 
things  are  looking  for  Mr.  West?  " 

Haas  patted  him  on  the  back.  "  Don't  you 
worry  about  him,  my  dear  boy.  He's  coming 
through  all  right.  A  glass  of  beer  will  brighten 
you  up."  He  had  heard  that  the  engagement 
between  him  and  Virginia  was  broken.  He 
strolled  out  into  the  corridor  humming  sym- 
pathetically : 

"  '  Ich  weiss  nicht  was  soil  es  bedeuten, 
Dass  ich  so  traurig  bin.'  " 

The  Secretary  walked  on  with  a  sense  of 
suffocation.  He  strove  to  regain  a  spiritual 
calmness  that  would  enable  him  to  view  the 
matter  justly,  but  stinging  and  irritating 


294  The  Washingtonians 

thoughts  kept  returning  until  he  felt  as  if  he 
were  fighting  off  a  swarm  of  angry  bees  that 
darkened  the  air  about 'him. 

As  he  recalled  the  insulting  allusions  to  the 
President  contained  in  the  article,  he  felt  how 
his  honour  had  been  outraged,  and  he  framed 
mentally  a  haughty  reply  which  should  deny 
any  previous  knowledge  of  the  publication. 

He  left  the  city  limits  and  turned  into  the 
country  road.  He  remembered  that  he  had 
wished  to  enjoy  the  sunset,  but  he  could  not 
bring  himself  to  renounce  his  anger.  His 
passions  mastered  him  and  he  rejoiced  in  their 
mastery.  But  long  habit  of  moral  suasion  was 
stronger.  When  a  boy  he  had  learned  to  con- 
trol himself  by  gazing  upon  the  immensity  of 
the  heavens,  until  sheer  humility  at  the  thought 
of  his  pitiful  rage  had  quieted  him. 

At  last,  when  he  had  gone  some  distance  he 
paused,  and,  leaning  against  the  rustic  fence 
that  skirted  the  roadway,  he  looked  across  the 
field  to  the  sunset.  The  sky  was  pale  gold, 
and  was  reflected  on  the  wet  meadow-lands 
with  its  pools  of  water,  long  stretches  of  brown 
stubble,  and  occasional  patches  of  emerald  green 
where  the  snow  had  lain  deepest.  The  feel 
of  spring  was  already  in  the  air.  The  herd  of 
cows  at  the  farther  end  of  the  pasture,  seeing 
his  figure  near  the  bars,  came  forward  lowing, 
for  it  was  near  their  milking  hour.  The  odour 
of  milk,  their  mild  eyes,  their  deep  audible 


The  Washingtonians  295 

breathing  as  they  crowded  against  the  fence, 
all  seemed  a  part  of  the  sweet  air,  the  group 
of  familiar  trees,  the  glory  of  the  sky  beyond. 

So  he  stood,  and  peace  reentered  his  heart. 

Two  figures  came  into  the  landscape  and 
made  their  way  across  the  field.  They  were 
those  of  a  tall  man  and  a  small  boy  in  drum- 
mer's uniform.  The  two  came  diagonally 
across  the  field  to  where  West  stood.  His 
face  flushed.  He  was  tempted  to  move  on, 
but  his  pride  constrained  him  to  stand  still. 

The  man's  black  garments  hung  as  loosely 
on  him  as  on  a  scarecrow.  His  hat  was  a 
black  derby,  and  about  his  shoulders  he  had 
closely  wrapped  a  small  fringed  shawl.  Yet 
there  was  no  lack  of  dignity  in  that  awkward, 
ungainly  figure.  Strength  was  stamped  upon 
it,  and  the  pathetic  nobility  of  toil.  His  long 
legs  carried  him  ahead  so  rapidly  that  the  little 
fellow  at  his  side  had  to  run  now  and  then  to 
keep  up  with  him. 

The  President,  when  he  looked  up  and  real- 
ised toward  whom  he  was  heading,  experienced 
also  a  momentary  embarrassment. 

"  Good  afternoon,  Mr.  West,"  he  called 
when  within  speaking  distance.  "  Are  you  go- 
ing to  start  the  cows  home  ?  I  see  you  always 
have  to  be  driving  something." 

"  No,"  said  the  Secretary,  gravely ;  "  they 
don't  belong  to  me." 

The  President  took  off  his  derby  and  waved 


296  The  Washingtonians 

it  at  the  cows.  They  put  down  their  heads 
and  shied  off  blunderingly.  He  took  advan- 
tage of  their  moving  aside  to  slip  the  bars,  and 
let  himself  through  into  the  road. 

The  boy  had  already  climbed  over  the 
fence,  careful  as  he  did  so  not  to  press  too 
hard  a  little  creature  he  held  under  one  arm. 

"  Show  Mr.  West  your  kitten,  Tad,"  said 
his  father. 

The  child  displayed  a  tiny  bedraggled  cat, 
with  an  old  red  ribbon  tied  around  its  neck. 
"  Hurry  up  and  give  me  your  jack-knife, 
father.  I've  got  to  cut  this  string  off  right 
away.  It's  so  long  she  steps  on  it  when  she 
tries  to  walk." 

He  sat  down  on  the  stump  of  a  tree  with 
the  kitten  hugged  between  his  knees,  and  put 
up  his  hand  for  the  knife. 

The  President  winked  at  West,  and  thrust 
his  hand  into  the  pocket  of  his  black  panta- 
loons. "  All  right,  Tad.  I  always  oblige  the 
soldiers.  Nothing  too  good  for  them." 

The  boy  laughed  delightedly.  No  new 
recruit  was  ever  prouder  of  his  uniform  than 
he.  "I'll  open  it,"  he  interposed,  as  his 
father  started  to  draw  up  the  dullest  blade. 

"  Be  careful  not  to  cut  the  kitten,"  said  the 
President  as  he  handed  it  to  him. 

"  Don't  you  be  afraid,"  retorted  Tad,  break- 
ing off  his  thumb-nail  in  his  effort  to  open  the 
heavy  knife. 


The  Washingtonians  297 

The  Secretary  had  no  fondness  for  kittens, 
and  he  thought  the  present  one  quite  unat- 
tractive. For  some  reason  he  had  a  passing 
thought  of  Virginia,  and  was  puzzled.  Then 
he  realised  that  the  kitten  had  reminded  him 
of  her  fondness  for  one  she  used  to  have. 
The  red  ribbon,  too,  had  a  vague  association 
with  it. 

"  The  country  is  so  fresh  after  the  rain,"  he 
remarked.  "  Do  you  notice  those  green 
patches  ?  I  walked  home  to-night  for  the 
sunset  and  open  air." 

The  President  leaned  his  back  against  the 
fence.  He  nodded  sympathetically.  "  Tad 
and  I  ran  away.  We've  been  out  to  the  Sol- 
diers' Home,  and  I  let  him  lead  me  by  a  short 
cut  he  discovered  last  summer  when  my  family 
was  spending  the  hot  weather  out  there.  But 
I  guess  we've  got  ourselves  pretty  well  covered 
with  mud." 

Both  men  were  acutely  conscious  of  their 
mutual  antagonism,  which,  however,  seemed 
to  lessen  as  they  stood  alone  beneath  the 
glowing  sky. 

West  felt  his  humiliation  over  the  circular 
return,  and  twice  he  tried  to  speak  in  explana- 
tion of  the  insulting  allusions  to  his  companion 
which  it  had  contained,  but  pride  restrained 
him.  He  decided  to  wait  until  evening  and 
then  write  a  letter. 

No  member  of  his  Cabinet  had  tormented 


298  The  Washingtonians 

and  embarrassed  the  President  more  than  his 
Secretary  of  the  Treasury,  and  no  one,  he 
knew,  had  criticised  him  more  severely  and 
more  openly  stated  his  grievances.  But  he 
had  the  insight  to  know  that  this  irritable  atti- 
tude toward  him  was  not  dictated  by  malice, 
although  there  was  much  jealousy  of  his  suc- 
cess and  resentment  at  his  policy.  West  was 
the  one  man  with  whom  he  could  not  get  on ; 
his  wit,  his  patience,  his  kindness,  none  of  these 
qualities  could  find  the  open  sesame  to  that 
eminently  able,  haughty,  and  unfathomable 
nature. 

"  West  and  I  rub  each  other  the  wrong 
way,"  he  used  to  say.  "  He's  always  trying 
conscientiously  to  let  me  know  how  much 
he  disapproves  of  me  for  fear  I  might  be 
deceived." 

But  this  afternoon  they  both  felt  more 
kindly  toward  each  other  than  ever  before. 
And  this  suggestion  of  sympathy  came  from 
their  being  in  the  tranquil  open  landscape  to- 
gether, and  the  consciousness  that,  in  spite  of 
their  disagreements,  they,  with  other  brave 
men,  had  together  come  through  the  terrible 
struggle  of  the  last  four  years.  For  this  little 
while  the  prospect  of  their  rival  candidacy 
seemed  unimportant. 

"  I  shouldn't  mind  going  to  a  husking-bee 
or  spelling-school  to-night,"  remarked  the 
President,  breaking  off  a  splinter  of  the  fence 


The  Washingtonians  299 

with  his  nervous  gaunt  hand.  "  I  want 
some  fun.  I  reckon  I'll  have  to  go  to  the 
theatre." 

"  I  have  never  cared  much  for  the  theatre 
myself,"  answered  West,  "  though  I  am  fond 
of  reading  Shakespeare  and  especially  the 
tragedies  of  Sophocles.  My  daughter  tells 
me  I  don't  read  them  from  the  dramatic  stand- 
point. I  think  my  natural  inclination  for 
pleasure  was  killed  in  me  when  young  by  my 
uncle.  He  was  a  scholar,  a  severe  man  of 
worldly  means  and  position,  and  I  was  a  poor 
dependent.  I  remember  that  when  he  enter- 
tained notable  people  he  would  not  permit  me 
to  sit  and  talk  with  his  guests  as  though  I  were 
an  equal  in  aspirations  if  not  in  accomplish- 
ment, but  I  had  to  put  on  the  habiliments  of 
a  servant  and  wait  on  the  table."  His  voice 
vibrated  with  intense  bitterness. 

His  companion  smiled.  "Well,  I'm  sure 
you're  just  as  proud  as  if  you  hadn't  had  to 
wait  on  the  table  when  there  was  company.  I 
hope  you  got  filled  up  after,  though." 

"  He  was  not  mean  at  the  table ;  I  must 
say  that  for  him,"  West  replied,  seriously, 
with  his  never-failing  regard  for  justice.  He 
pointed  to  the  sunset  which  he  had  been 
watching  during  the  conversation. 

The  President  half-turned.  As  the  smile 
the  anecdote  had  caused  faded  from  his  face  he 
looked  sadder  than  ever,  with  a  weariness  that 


300  The  Washingtonians 

seemed  no  bodily  fatigue  merely,  but  to  come 
from  within  outward. 

The  Secretary's  countenance,  though  pale, 
conveyed  no  idea  of  physical  weariness.  There 
was  a  calm,  a  remoteness  from  the  anxieties  of 
the  every-day  world,  in  his  expression  ;  his  fine 
gray  eyes  held  a  look  of  exaltation.  He  had 
won  a  terrific  battle  with  his  own  passions  that 
afternoon,  and  an  almost  religious  peace  had 
descended  upon  him. 

He  had  no  understanding  of  the  worn  black 
figure  beside  him,  the  weariness  of  that  phys- 
ical body  which  had  worked  so  desperately 
hard  that  it  had  never  known  what  it  was  to 
be  anything  but  gaunt  and  knotted  and  awk- 
ward ;  nor  any  comprehension  of  the  heart  so 
tender  that  the  woes  of  others  daily  crucified  it. 

"  —  trailing  clouds  of  glory  do  we  come 
From  God  who  is  our  home." 

The  Secretary  repeated  mentally  the  lines 
from  his  favourite  poet,  but  his  reserve  was  too 
deep  for  him  to  say  them  aloud. 

His  companion  had  turned  again  from  the 
clear,  wonderful  brightness  of  the  western  sky, 
and  his  gloomy  eyes  watched  sadly  the  more 
evanescent  and  tender  colouring  in  the  east. 
The  dimming  woodlands,  the  grayer  tones 
shadowing  the  approach  of  night  appealed  to 
the  mysterious  melancholy  of  his  nature. 


The  Washingtonians  301 

He  had  not  the  same  sense  of  sublimity  in 
poetry  that  West  had.  He  preferred  simple 
poems,  annals  of  the  heart,  sad  verses  that 
sung  his  own  sadness,  or  humourous  doggerel 
that  invoked  his  laughter. 

West  obeyed  a  sudden  impulse  to  tell  him 
then  of  the  circular,  and  his  own  mortification 
and  regret. 

"It  was  sent  to  me  yesterday,"  the  President 
answered  him,  "  but  I  did  not  read  it.  I  quite 
understand  how  you  feel  about  it."  He  knew 
West  to  be  a  mere  toy  in  the  hands  of  political 
charlatans.  Yet  he  was  beginning  to  fear  a 
rival  in  him,  and  to  wonder  if  he  would  be 
able  to  draw  the  disaffected  elements  of  the 
Republican  party  to  centre  on  him  as  their 
candidate.  No  trace  of  this  anxiety  showed 
in  his  face. 

"  Come  on,  Tad,"  he  said,  "  we  must  be 
going."  He  extended  his  hand  to  his  Secre- 
tary. "  You  mustn't  take  these  politicians  too 
seriously.  I'll  tell  you  a  secret.  I  believe 
half  of  what  I  see  them  do,  and  nothing  of 
what  they  say.  And  if  it  turns  out  that  I'm 
the  man  the  people  choose  it  won't  be  because 
I'm  the  best  man,  but  because  they  will  have 
come  to  the  conclusion  that  it  isn't  wise  to 
swap  horses  when  crossing  the  stream.  Get 
up,  Tad." 

The  child  was  whittling.  "  I  don't  want  to 
go  now.  I'm  not  going.  You  can  go  on." 


302  The  Washingtonians 

West  looked  down  on  him  with  annoyance 
written  on  his  handsome  face.  He  was  fond 
of  children,  but  he  could  not  brook  disobedi- 
ence in  them. 

"  I  reckon  Tad  will  come  along  pretty 
soon,"  said  his  father ;  "  he  knows  mother  will 
be  worrying." 

The  little  fellow  seated  on  the  stump 
between  the  two  men  whittled  obstinately. 
The  kitten,  restored  to  respectability  at  having 
found  a  master,  had  retired  to  the  middle  of 
the  road  some  feet  away  and  was  making  her 
toilet  with  her  small  pink  tongue. 

"  What  are  you  making  ? "  inquired  the 
President. 

"  Boat,"  cried  the  child,  naughtily. 

The  President  waited  patiently.  He  had 
the  look  that  a  tired  mother  might  have  worn. 
Much  dealing  with  the  humours  of  older  chil- 
dren had  mellowed  him. 

Suddenly  little  Tad  flung  the  knife  and 
wood  aside,  and  with  a  passionate  sob  of  con- 
trition rushed  to  his  father. 

The  President  drew  out  his  handkerchief, 
stooped  and  wiped  the  tears  from  the  boy's 
face. 

"  He's  taken  too  long  a  walk,  I  reckon,"  he 
said  to  West,  his  face  illumined  by  his  won- 
derful smile.  He  went  and  picked  the  jack- 
knife  out  of  the  mud,  wiped  it  on  a  clump  of 
dry  grass,  and  returned  it  to  his  pocket.  Then 


The  Washingtonians  303 

he  lifted  the  kitten  in  his  large,  homely,  gentle 
hands  and  put  it  into  his  son's  arms. 

"  Come  on,  Tad,"  he  said,  giving  a  pleasant 
farewell  nod  to  his  Secretary.  "  Mother'll  be 
worrying." 

They  went  down  the  road  together,  the 
President  swinging  his  heavy  walking- stick, 
the  little  soldier  at  his  side  trudging  manfully 
along  with  the  contented  kitten  hugged  to  his 
breast.  The  sun  had  set;  the  afterglow  was 
bright  in  the  sky,  but  by  the  time  the  two 
reached  home  it  was  dark. 


Chapter  XXI 

PRENT1SS  came  in  late  to  dinner.  He 
looked  both  tired  and  irritable. 

"I  don't  want  anything  to  eat.  I'll  take 
some  wine,  though."  He  removed  his  eye- 
glasses and  began  polishing  them  nervously. 

"  Let  me  give  you  a  saucer  of  this  floating- 
island,"  said  Mrs.  Matthews,  who  was  serving 
the  dessert.  "  And  I  think  you'd  better  have 
a  slice  of  bread.  Jim,  bring  Mr.  Prentiss  the 
bread.  What  is  the  matter  with  you  all  ?  No 
one  seems  to  be  hungry.  Father  was  so  fool- 
ish as  to  walk  home,  and  is  so  tired  he  hasn't 
any  appetite  left." 

"  I'm  sorry  I  didn't  overtake  you,  sir,"  said 
Prentiss.  "  I  left  town  too  late.  Did  you 
enjoy  your  walk  ?  " 

"  Not  particularly,"  answered  the  Secretary. 

General  Matthews,  having  finished  his  meal, 
lighted  a  cigar.  "  I  hear  that  Polonski  is  still 
in  New  York  waiting  his  passports.  Did  you 
know  there's  to  be  an  auction  of  the  odds 
and  ends  they  left?  I  might  pick  you  up  a 
souvenir,  Portia." 

"  I  don't  care  for  it,  thank  you,"  she  an- 
swered. For  some  days  she  had  been  con- 
304 


The  Washingtonians  305 

scious  of  an  indefinable  change  in  his  manner 
toward  her.  He  treated  her  coldly,  and  at 
times  she  had  even  felt  he  regarded  her  with 
aversion.  At  first  she  was  puzzled,  and,  think- 
ing there  must  be  some  misunderstanding,  she 
had  endeavoured  to  bring  about  an  explana- 
tion. But  he  affected  not  to  see  her  effort, 
and  this  filled  her  with  resentment.  For  the 
first  time  she  had  a  feeling  of  pride  toward 
him,  and  there  were  moments  when  he  inspired 
her  with  dislike,  and  she  wished,  with  no  con- 
science-stricken reproaches  the  second  time,  that 
he  would  return  to  his  brigade.  If  her  father 
were  not  nominated  she  would  go  to  Europe 
for  a  year.  It  was  not  well  for  married  people 
to  see  too  much  of  each  other. 

"It  has  always  surprised  me,"  he  continued, 
"  that  the  affair  was  hushed  up  so  quickly. 
With  the  exception  of  one  or  two  disreputable 
sheets  the  papers  have  been  pretty  decent. 
They  intimate  that  he  kept  private  gambling- 
rooms  in  his  house,  and  all  they  say  about  her 
is  that  she  was  up  to  her  dimpled  elbows  in 
some  diplomatic  pie." 

"  I  hope  they  didn't  say  dimpled  elbows," 
interposed  his  wife,  scornfully. 

"  Why,  weren't  they  dimpled  ?  "  inquired 
Prentiss.  "  I  think  I  will  take  a  little  more 
of  that  custard.  I'm  hungrier  than  I  thought." 

"  I  was  proud  of  the  attitude  of  the  press  in 
the  matter,"  Matthews  remarked,  flicking  the 


306  The  Washingtonians 

ashes  off  his  cigar.  "It  shows  the  innate 
chivalry  of  the  American  who  doesn't  want  to 
make  a  sensation  out  of  a  poor  woman's  shame. 
I  had  a  hint  of  the  sorry  business  some  days 
before  it  was  officially  known.  That's  why  I 
spoke  to  you  as  I  did  that  afternoon."  It  was 
the  first  time  he  had  referred  to  the  incident. 

"  I  remember  you  insulted  her  in  my  pres- 
ence," Portia  retorted,  "  and  never  apologised." 

Matthews  laughed.     "  Did  I  ?  "  he  said. 

"  Of  course  this  is  just  among  us,"  said 
Prentiss,  "  but  who  do  you  suppose  has  been 
lending  Polonski  money  since  he  got  into  this 
scrape?  Greenleaf." 

"  I  don't  believe  it,"  cried  Mrs.  Matthews. 
"  Who  told  you  ?  " 

"  Haas  himself.  He  ought  to  know.  He 
wanted  a  loan  himself,  and  Greenleaf  told  him 
confidentially  that  he  couldn't  let  him  have  it, 
as  he  had  lent  so  much  to  the  Russian." 

"  Don't  you  remember,  Tom,"  said  Mrs. 
Matthews,  forgetting  their  coldness,  "  how  he 
just  kept  hold  of  Greenleaf  that  night  at  sup- 
per after  the  theatre  ?  I  hope  he  didn't  get 
any  money  out  of  you." 

"  What  did  you  say  about  Mr.  Haas, 
David  ? "  asked  the  Secretary,  showing  his 
first  interest  in  the  conversation.  "  Have 
you  seen  him  to-day  ?  " 

"  I  have  just  come  from  him,"  he  answered. 
After  a  moment's  hesitation  he  added,  "He 


The  Washingtonians  307 

told  me  that  he  had  seen  you  on  your  way 
home." 

The  Secretary  addressed  his  daughter.  "  I 
have  suffered  a  terrible  humiliation,  and  it  has 
decided  me  to  withdraw  my  name." 

She  paled. 

"  What  has  happened  ?  "  asked  Matthews. 

"  Much,"  answered  his  father-in-law,  bit- 
terly. "  I  am  the  victim  of  my  friends.  No 
enemy  could  have  contrived  a  more  effectual 
blow  for  my  destruction."  He  felt  in  his  waist- 
coat pocket.  "  No,  I  had  forgotten.  I  des- 
troyed the  copy  I  had.  It  was  one  Mr.  Haas 
gave  me.  He  alone  of  my  friends  seems  to 
have  been  loyal  to  me." 

"  Won't  you  please  tell  me  what  has  hap- 
pened? "  begged  Mrs.  Matthews.  "You  may 
leave  the  room,  Jim,"  she  added  to  the 
servant. 

"  I  have  it,"  put  in  Prentiss,  drawing  out  a 
folded  circular.  "  Haas  came  to  see  me  after 
he  had  left  you  and  we  went  off  together  to 
find  Chadwick,  but  he's  gone  to  New  York." 

"  Let  me  see  it,"  demanded  Mrs.  Matthews, 
putting  out  her  hand  eagerly.  "  Is  it  about 
father  ? "  Her  eyes  were  bright  with  excite- 
ment and  the  colour  after  the  first  startled 
moment  had  come  back  into  her  face. 

"  No,  let  me  read  it  aloud,"  said  Prentiss. 

"  Read  it,  David,"  commanded  West.  "  I 
should  like  to  hear  how  it  sounds."  He  folded 


308  The  Washingtonians 

his  arms  on  his  breast,  his  face  composed  and 
cold. 

"  Don't,  father,"  said  Portia,  with  a  curious, 
nervous,  little  laugh  ;  "  you  look  like  a  judge  !  " 

"  Look  at  this,"  cried  Prentiss,  holding  the 
paper  away  from  him  and  pointing  at  it  scorn- 
fully, "  c  For  Private  Circulation  Only.'  That 
was  the  first  thing  that  damned  fool  started  in 
with." 

"  Perhaps  he  did  it  to  call  greater  attention 
to  the  article,"  suggested  Mrs.  Matthews.  "  It 
might  arouse  curiosity." 

He  gave  her  a  quick  look.  "  So  you  think 
it's  Chadwick,  too  ?  I  didn't  think  you'd 
admit  it.  Have  you  any  idea  of  his  motive  ? 
I  can't  see  any  sense  to  it.  Just  wait  till  I 
finish  it." 

"  For  whatever  motive  it  may  have  been 
done,"  said  the  Secretary,  "  it  was  foolish  and 
prejudicial  to  the  cause.  My  actions  in  public 
life  have  always  been  open  to  inspection.  That 
word  f  private '  is  fatal  to  a  public  servant  such 
as  I  am." 

"  Still  I  think  one  may  take  such  an  article 
too  seriously,"  said  General  Matthews,  "  and 
overestimate  the  harm  it  does.  When  a  man's 
character  has  impressed  itself  well  upon  the 
people  at  large  his  reputation  is  not  to  be 
injured  by  a  foolish  article.  We  know  our- 
selves how  little  we're  disposed  to  believe 
seriously  half  of  what  we  hear  about  our 


The  Washingtonians  309 

friends.  We  take  things  with  a  grain  of 
salt." 

"  Read  it,  David,"  said  Mrs.  Matthews,  im- 
patiently. She  resented  her  husband  taking 
any  part  in  the  discussion.  He  had  shown  no 
interest  in  her  father's  campaign  ;  it  was  not  for 
him  to  speak. 

Prentiss  had  been  glancing  down  the  printed 
page.  Now  he  read  a  paragraph  with  scornful 
emphasis : 

" c  Those  statesmen,  no  low  tricksters  and 
politicians,  but  loftiest  patriots  who  would  shed 
their  blood  for  their  country,  who  conscien- 
tiously believe  that  the  interests  of  the  nation 
and  the  mighty  cause  of  freedom  demand  a 
change  in  favour  of  vigour  and  purity,  have  no 
choice  but  to  appeal  to  the  people  before  it  is 
too  late.  They  believe  in  the  uncorrupted 
hearts  of  the  people ;  to  these  hearts  they 
appeal  for  a  fair  discussion  of  principles,  that 
this  fratricidal  war  shall  not  languish  longer. 

" '  Those  in  behalf  of  whom  this  appeal  is 
made  have  thoughtfully  surveyed  the  political 
field  and  have  arrived  at  the  following  conclu- 
sions:  First  — ' 

"  Now  just  let  me  ask  you  right  here,"  Pren- 
tiss interrupted  himself,  "  if  that  doesn't  sound 
like  a  schoolboy  oration  or  an  hysterical  girl- 
graduate  ?  That's  what  I  always  said  about 
Chadwick.  He  has  a  wonderful  gift  of  oratory 
and  when  he  speaks  you  get  the  flow  of  words  ; 


310  The  Washingtonians 

he's  magnetic  as  a  speaker,  he  knows  his  au- 
dience by  instinct  and  he  can  manage  men,  but 
that's  all.  He  has  no  real  intellectual  attain- 
ments. If  you  read  a  speech  of  his  in  cold 
print  it's  mere  balderdash.  He  doesn't  dare 
stand  on  anything  but  the  impression  his  per- 
sonality makes.  That's  why  he's  so  nervous. 
He  doesn't  dare  let  people  lose  the  echo  of 
his  splendid  voice  and  he's  always  popping  up 
on  public  occasions.  I  tell  you,  Mr.  West, 
you  ought  to  have  read  his  speeches."  The 
young  man's  sensitive  face  showed  how  much 
he  was  affected  by  the  foolish  political  blunder 
that  had  victimised  his  patron. 

"You  are  scolding  like  a  woman,  David," 
interrupted  Mrs,  Matthews,  impatiently,  "and 
you  are  needlessly  prejudicing  father  against 
Senator  Chadwick.  Please  give  me  the  circu- 
lar and  I  will  read  it." 

"  No,  my  dear,"  interposed  her  father, 
calmly,  "  he  doesn't  prejudice  me,  but  I  am 
reminded  of  a  good  story  —  " 

She  tapped  impatiently  on  the  floor  with 
her  foot.  "My  dear  father,  you  are  so  sel- 
dom reminded  of  a  good  story  that  I  think 
you  might  postpone  it  as  a  special  treat  for 
some  time  when  we  are  not  all  upset." 

"  Why  don't  you  pass  Portia  that  paper 
when  she  wants  it,  Prentiss  ?  "  asked  General 
Matthews,  angrily.  He  saw  that  his  wife  was 
much  disturbed. 


The  Washingtonians  311 

"  As  the  story  relates  to  the  case  in  hand  I 
think  I  will  tell  it  now,"  resumed  the  Secre- 
tary, "  for  it  may  point  out  how  blind  we  have 
all  been  in  regard  to  this  Chadwick.  One  of 
my  friends,  who  is  in  charge  of  a  home  for 
deaf  and  dumb  children,  invited  a  famous  ora- 
tor to  speak  to  the  children.  My  friend  pro- 
posed to  stand  beside  him  while  he  talked  and 
translate  his  speech  into  the  sign-language. 
You  may  happen  to  know  that  one  or  two 
gestures  will  stand  for  a  phrase  and  that  they 
try  to  express  an  idea  rather  than  the  mere 
words  by  a  motion.  Well,  my  friend  discov- 
ered that  he  was  repeating  the  same  idea  over 
and  over  to  the  children,  who  were  beginning 
to  be  puzzled.  Meanwhile  the  people  who 
could  hear  were  much  impressed  by  the  elo- 
quent flow  of  words,  and  kept  applauding ;  but 
my  friend  was  making  up  a  sermon  of  his  own 
and  giving  it  to  the  children,  not  paying  the 
least  attention  to  what  the  speaker  of  the  after- 
noon was  saying.  Since  I  have  seen  that  cir- 
cular I  have  entirely  altered  my  opinion  of 
Senator  Chadwick.  Continue  it,  David,  for  I 
want  Portia  and  Mr.  Matthews  to  hear  it !  " 
He  listened  with  composure  to  those  conclu- 
sions drawn  to  show  his  own  suitability  for  the 
great  office,  but  when  the  long  and  violent 
arraignment  of  the  President  was  made,  he 
flushed  with  mortification.  However  earnestly 
he  tried  to  appreciate  the  qualities  of  his 


312  The  Washingtonians 

chief,  he  had  never  honestly  admired  him,  and 
although  he  had  written  the  most  carping  criti- 
cisms of  him  to  friends  he  had  always  con- 
sidered that  he  gave  a  private  opinion.  He 
had  no  idea  how  widely  he  had  circulated  his 
unfavourable  opinion,  nor  did  he  realise  his 
chief  motive  for  this  dislike.  It  lay  in  the  fact 
that  the  President  from  the  beginning  had  not 
considered  himself  merely  "  chief  among  his 
equals  "  when  consulting  with  his  Cabinet,  but 
directed  them  and  kept  his  own  counsel  until 
he  saw  fit  to  act. 

He  broke  into  the  reading.  "  I  have  seen 
the  President  already,  and  stated  to  him  my 
deep  regret  at  these  expressions  with  which  I 
had  nothing  to  do,  but  which,  of  course,  will 
be  put  upon  my  shoulders.  It  makes  me 
hate  public  life  when  I  realise  how  ineffectual 
are  the  most  faithful  labours  and  upright  con- 
duct to  protect  any  man  against  malignant 
lies.  I  have  to  shoulder  the  mistakes  of  one 
set  of  friends,  and,  in  addition,  bear  the  re- 
proaches of  other  friends  for  those  very  mis- 
takes for  which  I  am  not  responsible.  I  have 
grown  to  hate  public  life  and,  God  willing,  I 
shall  retire  from  it  as  soon  as  my  present 
duties  are  ended." 

"  Listen  to  this,"  cried  Prentiss.  "  f  Seventh, 
that  we  find  united  in  the  Honourable  Phineas 
West  more  of  the  qualities  needed  in  a  Presi- 
dent during  the  next  four  years  than  are  com- 


The  Washingtonians  313 

bined  in  any  other  available  candidate.  His 
record  is  unimpeachable,  showing  him  to  be 
a  statesman  of  rare  ability,  while  his  splendid 
private  character  furnishes  the  surest  available 
guarantee  of  economy  and  purity  in  the  man- 
agement of  public  affairs.'  "  He  flung  the 
circular  on  the  table  and  laughed.  "  How's 
that  for  a  *  character '  ?  You  could  get  a 
position  on  that  if  you  were  without  one,  Mr. 
West!" 

Mrs.  Matthews  looked  at  him  in  absolute 
amazement.  What  was  the  matter  with  him 
these  days?  It  was  unlike  him  to  show  such 
bitter  mirth.  Where  was  his  old  kindly  tact  ? 
Had  his  loss  of  Virginia  destroyed  his  power 
of  sympathy  ? 

"  I  do  not  see  why  you  need  sneer  at  that," 
she  said.  "  Nothing  could  be  truer  of  father. 
He  deserves  all  that  praise  and  more."  Her 
voice  quivered. 

Prentiss  was  touched  and  ashamed.  "  I 
didn't  mean  it  in  that  way.  Nothing  could 
be  truer.  But  don't  you  see  the  cheapness  of 
the  thing,  the  vulgarity  ?  It  isn't  as  if  the 
same  article  had  appeared  in  a  reputable  paper, 
but  it  is  issued  anonymously  right  here  in 
Washington,  where  your  father  can't  help  but 
be  suspected  of  having  a  hand  in  it,  especially 
in  the  attack  on  the  President.  It  doesn't  look 
very  well,  an  anonymous  attack  from  a  mem- 
ber of  the  Cabinet !  But  the  most  humiliat- 


314  The  Washingtonians 

ing  thing  is  that  it  isn't  taken  seriously.  Haas 
told  me  every  newspaper  man  in  town  saw  it 
two  days  ago,  and  laughed  at  it  and  tossed 
it  aside,  not  even  thinking  it  worth  while  to 
give  it  space  in  his  paper." 

Secretary  West  folded  his  napkin,  and  drew 
it  through  the  ring.  "  I  shall  trace  this  matter 
to  the  root,  and  find  out  who  is  responsible." 

"  You  will  not  have  to  go  far,  father,"  Mrs. 
Matthews  said,  in  a  curiously  even  voice.  "  I 
suggested  the  article,  and  wrote  the  greater 
part  of  it  myself.  Senator  Chadwick,  however, 
assisted  me  and  saw  to  the  printing  and  busi- 
ness part  of  it." 

He  stared  at  her.  As  his  mind  grasped  the 
significance  of  her  words  his  terrible  anger  of 
the  afternoon  revived.  He  checked  the  words 
that  rose  to  his  lips,  striving  to  remember  that 
she  was  his  daughter  as  well  as  his  persecutor. 

She  met  his  glance  steadily.  His  anger  had 
never  before  been  directed  toward  her.  She 
put  her  hand  to  her  side. 

He  sat  silent  with  heaving  breast.  The 
passion  in  his  face  gradually  gave  way  to  cold- 
ness. The  look  of  the  great  lawgiver  that 
he  afterward  became  seemed  to  turn  his  white 
face  to  marble  in  which  the  eyes  shone  with 
a  steady  light.  There  was  something  fearful 
in  the  expression  of  those  fine  eyes,  as  if  his 
judgment  had  passed  beyond  the  point  when 
it  could  be  affected  by  the  thought  of  their 


The  Washingtonians  315 

relationship.  In  that  moment  she  appreciated 
him  as  she  never  had  before,  and  in  that 
moment  of  supreme  finding  lost  him.  She 
knew  he  would  never  forgive  her, 

Prentiss  laughed.  The  shock  of  her  con- 
fession, the  way  in  which  the  two  now  faced 
each  other,  roused  in  him  a  ghastly  sense  of 
the  ridiculous. 

"  A  Portia  come  to  judgment !  "  he  cried. 
The  strain  had  been  almost  more  than  he 
could  endure.  But  as  soon  as  the  worse  than 
tactless  words  left  his  lips  he  realised  his  mis- 
take, and  became  cool.  He  rose  to  leave  the 
room. 

His  action  prompted  Matthews  to  rise  also. 
He  looked  almost  sick.  His  presence  could 
accomplish  nothing.  Perhaps  alone  with  his 
daughter  Mr.  West  would  relapse  into  tender- 
ness. He  followed  Prentiss  across  into  the 
hall.  Neither  spoke  to  the  other.  Matthews 
put  on  his  hat,  and  left  the  house.  He  felt 
that  he  should  suffocate  if  he  did  not  get  the 
fresh  air. 

Secretary  West  saw  them  go.  He  realised 
that  he  was  alone  with  his  daughter.  A  look 
of  peculiar  dislike  crossed  his  face.  He  rose 
hurriedly,  and  followed  the  other  two  men. 

She  watched  the  door  close  after  him.  Once, 
twice,  three  times  she  started  to  rise,  then 
finally  sank  back  into  her  chair. 

The  butler,  opening  the  door  to  clear  away 


316  The  Washingtonians 

the  dessert  things,  drew  back  in  terror  at  see- 
ing his  mistress,  her  beautiful  head  bowed  on 
her  arms  on  the  table,  weeping.  He  had  the 
sympathy  of  his  race.  He  tiptoed  away. 
Soon  the  news  had  spread  to  every  servant. 
Speculation  ran  rife.  Mrs.  Matthews's  maid 
stole  to  the  door,  and  listened  to  the  smothered 
sobbing.  Then  she,  too,  drew  away  frightened. 
Disaster  had  befallen  the  household.  Some 
one  spoke  the  name  of  Miss  Virginia.  The 
more  emotional  began  to  weep  and  wail.  They 
all  worshipped  her. 

Secretary  West,  dictating  a  letter  to  Prentiss 
in  the  library,  was  annoyed  by  a  timid  knock 
on  the  door. 

In  answer  to  his  irritated  invitation  to  enter, 
Tobias,  the  indulged  old  coachman,  came  in. 

"  Ef  yo  please,  Massa  Phineas,"  he  said, 
deprecatingly,  "  them  ignerant  black  niggahs 
out  in  de  kitchen  will  have  it  that  Miss  V'ginia 
be  ailing,  or  mos'  likely,  dead." 

"  Nonsense,"  answered  the  Secretary,  frown- 
ing, "  don't  interrupt  me  again.  Go  out  and 
shut  that  door.  Miss  Virginia  is  as  well  as 
she  ever  was.  I  had  a  letter  from  her  yester- 
day." 


Chapter  XXII 

QECRETARY  WEST  revoked  his  first 
[^  impulsive  decision  to  withdraw  his  name. 
A  committee  waited  upon  him  the  next  after- 
noon, and  persuaded  him  that  it  was  not  the 
part  of  wisdom  to  regard  too  seriously  an 
imprudent,  although  well-intentioned,  cam- 
paign document. 

Senator  Chadwick  was  telegraphed  for,  and 
returned  at  once  from  New  York.  He  went 
directly  to  the  Treasury  Building  when  he 
arrived,  but  found  that  the  Secretary  was  at- 
tending a  Cabinet  meeting.  So  he  waited  for 
him  in  the  private  office  with  Prentiss. 

The  latter  felt  a  subtle  change  in  him.  He 
seemed  to  have  acquired  an  unconscious  dig- 
nity ;  he  had  a  peculiar  brightness  of  expres- 
sion, as  one  who  possessed  a  secret  happiness ; 
he  showed  no  anxiety  in  regard  to  the  un- 
fortunate circular.  He  renewed  his  offer  to 
publish  a  volume  of  poems  for  Prentiss. 

"  No,  no,"  said  Prentiss,  laughing.  "  I'll 
find  a  publisher  in  time.  Would  you  like  to 
look  at  the  paper  ?  " 

{l  In  a  moment,"  answered  Chadwick. 
3'7 


jig  The  Washingtonians 

"  Don't  let  me  interrupt  you.  Can  I  have  a 
sheet  of  paper  and  a  pen  ?  Don't  move.  I'll 
just  clear  myself  a  place  on  the  corner  of  this 
table." 

For  some  time  there  was  silence.  Suddenly 
Chadwick  crumpled  the  paper  he  was  writing 
into  a  ball,  and  flung  it  into  the  waste-paper 
basket. 

"  I  am  going  to  ask  you  if  you  will  take  a 
message  to  Mrs.  Matthews  from  me  ?  I  find 
it  difficult  to  write  to  her.  Expression  in 
writing  does  not  come  easily  to  me." 

"  Certainly,"  Prentiss  replied,  in  some  as- 
tonishment. "What  is  it?" 

Chadwick  fixed  his  bright  eyes  on  him. 
"  I  should  like  to  have  you  tell  her,"  he  said, 
slowly,  "  that  I  was  married  to  Catherine  Ba- 
zarov  three  days  ago  in  the  Russian  Church 
in  New  York." 

"  Who  !  "  exclaimed  Prentiss. 

Chadwick  saw  that  he  had  not  understood. 
He  hesitated.  He  could  not  bring  himself  to 
utter  the  hated  name  of  Polonski. 

The  young  man  was  puzzled  by  his  em- 
barrassment and  hesitation.  Then  light  broke 
upon  his  bewilderment.  "  Oh,  I  see,"  he  said. 
He  felt  an  insane  desire  to  laugh,  and  then 
had  the  grace  to  be  ashamed.  "  I  hope  you 
will  be  happy,"  he  added. 

The  other  continued  as  if  he  had  not  heard 
the  remark.  "  We  were  married  privately, 


The  Washingtonians  319 

and  I  hope  we  may  avoid  newspaper  public- 
ity." He  took  up  a  magazine  and  opened  it. 

Prentiss  felt  the  subject  to  be  dismissed. 
He  continued  his  work  mechanically.  What 
a  marriage,  what  a  marriage  !  his  mind  repeated 
with  wonder.  He  took  a  glance  at  the  face 
of  the  man  near  him,  so  youthful  when  seen 
at  a  little  distance,  so  filled  with  lines  of  dis- 
simulation on  a  nearer  view. 

Chadwick's  cleverness  seemed  to  have  failed 
him  in  this  case.  The  Russian  had  probably 
seen  her  opportunity  and  taken  it.  He  won- 
dered if  she  had  written  for  him  to  come  to 
her.  She  would  now  no  longer  be  the  slave  of 
Polonski,  but  an  American  wife.  Had  she  gath- 
ered a  hint  of  the  independence  of  the  latter 
position  from  Portia  ?  The  change  must  have 
seemed  to  her  like  coming  out  of  a  Siberian 
prison.  But  how  would  either  she  or  her 
husband  be  able  to  endure  the  other  ?  Then 
he  reflected  that  there  must  be  some  psycho- 
logical justification  in  their  marriage,  as  both 
of  them  were  so  experienced  and  clever. 

He  thought  of  Virginia,  so  untouched  by 
the  world  ;  Virginia,  sweet  as  an  opening  rose  ; 
Virginia,  with  her  innocent  face  and  shining 
eyes.  How  often  had  he  dreamed  of  her  in 
her  bridal  white,  his  beloved,  his  little  girl ! 

Chadwick  was  making  a  pretence  of  reading 
the  paper.  He  was  really  thinking  of  his  wife, 
whom  he  had  left  in  quiet  lodgings  in  New 


320  The  Washingtonians 

York.  The  memory  of  her  extreme  gentle- 
ness, her  sadness,  her  dependence  on  him,  her 
gratitude,  brought  the  tears  to  his  eyes. 

He  was  absorbed  in  this  late  but  first  real 
romance  of  his  life,  and  he  realised  that  he 
had  acquired  a  new  maturity  and  wider  sym- 
pathy with  other  men.  He  saw  no  fault  in 
her.  His  own  cold  and  correct  nature  ac- 
knowledged the  mysterious  attraction  of  her 
richer  if  more  faulty  personality.  It  was  a 
subtle  and  delicate  loyalty  to  his  wife  that  made 
him  avoid  meeting  Mrs.  Matthews.  They 
could  not  see  each  other  without  consciousness 
of  her  terrible  mistake,  and  he  felt  under  the 
necessity  of  protecting  his  wife  even  from  the 
judgment  of  the  friend  who  had  sent  him  to  her. 

Secretary  West,  when  he  finally  arrived,  met 
him  with  a  coldness  and  restraint  that  did  not 
lift  during  the  entire  interview.  It  ended  un- 
satisfactorily, and  Chadwick  felt  that  the  Secre- 
tary's confidence  was  closed  to  him  for  good. 
As  he  rose  to  go  he  asked  to  see  the  circular 
which  he  had  not  seen  since  it  was  printed. 
He  explained  that  the  printer  had  misunder- 
stood his  directions,  and  had  issued  it  before  he, 
Chadwick,  had  entirely  completed  his  plans, 
and  while  he  was  absent  from  the  city.  There 
was  none  on  the  desk,  and  West  stepped  into 
the  next  room  to  ask  Prentiss  where  he  had 
put  them. 

While  he  was  gone  Chadwick  hastily  glanced 


The  Washingtonians  321 

over  a  paper  on  the  desk  the  other  had  un- 
locked when  he  entered  the  room. 

The  great  Secretary  had  handled  hundreds 
of  millions  of  dollars  without  any  part  of  it 
sticking  to  his  fingers.  His  momentary  ab- 
sence now  gave  the  first  and  only  opportunity 
to  one  of  his  friends,  political  or  otherwise,  to 
gain  a  hint  for  private  speculation  during  his 
administration. 

Chadwick  had  not  scrupled  to  take  advan- 
tage of  West's  absence,  but  he  was  not  without 
gratitude  for  this  surreptitious  information,  and 
he  did  his  best  to  make  amends  for  the  onus 
of  ridicule  the  unfortunate  publication  had 
brought  upon  his  party's  candidate.  He 
made  a  sensation  the  following  day  by  rising 
in  the  Senate  and  taking  upon  himself  the 
authorship  of  the  now  famous  circular.  He 
added  that  some  person  whom  he  did  not 
know  had  appended  to  it  the  endorsement, 
"  For  private  circulation  only,"  in  order,  so  he 
thought,  to  give  it  a  greater  vogue.  He  pub- 
licly congratulated  himself  that  he  was  chairman 
of  a  respectable  association  with  branches  all 
over  the  country,  "  whose  object  was  to  secure 
the  election  of  an  efficient  and  radical  candidate 
for  the  Presidency  in  opposition  to  the  time- 
serving policy  of  the  day." 

His  endeavour,  in  spite  of  his  splendid  tal- 
ent for  public  speaking,  failed  to  make  the 
secret  circular  convincing. 


322  The  Washingtonians 

The  Ohio  State  convention  was  to  meet  in 
ten  days,  and  West,  with  ill-concealed  anxiety, 
awaited  the  decision  of  his  State. 

His  attitude  toward  his  daughter  remained 
unchanged.  This  continued  coldness  on  his 
part  made  it  impossible  for  her  to  approach 
him  in  any  spirit  of  contrition,  and  the  sup- 
pression of  all  emotion  intensified  their  mutual 
bitter  pride. 

At  last  the  day  of  the  convention  came.  He 
had  gone  to  his  office  as  usual  in  the  morning, 
but  yielded  to  Prentiss's  urgent  advice  to  return 
home  at  noon  and  rest.  The  suspense  and 
excitement  were  telling  upon  his  nervous  force, 
and  he  opened  fearfully  the  arriving  telegrams. 

He  wished  to  be  away  from  them,  and  he 
relied  upon  his  young  secretary  to  send  him 
at  once  any  definite  news.  The  quiet  library 
at  home  opened  like  a  haven  of  rest  to  his 
mental  vision  as  he  drove  away  from  the  city. 

Portia  met  him  at  the  door.  "  I  saw  you 
coming  from  my  window.  You  are  not  ill  ?  " 

He  shook  his  head.  "  No,  but  I  had  some 
work  I  could  do  at  home  as  well  as  at  the 
office.  I  sha'n't  care  for  much  lunch.  I  wish 
you  would  just  send  it  in  to  me."  He  hung 
up  his  hat  and  coat,  then  went  into  the  library 
and  closed  the  door  after  him. 

She  took  him  in  his  lunch  herself,  and,  hav- 
ing placed  it  on  the  table,  sat  down  to  talk  with 
him  while  he  ate. 


The  Washingtonians  323 

"  I  made  a  little  beef  broth  for  you,  father. 
I  beat  an  egg  into  it,  as  it  makes  it  so  much 
more  nourishing." 

"  Thank  you,"  he  answered,  "  it  is  very 
nice." 

At  last  with  an  effort  she  inquired  how  the 
convention  stood  at  last  hearing. 

"  The  reports  are  confusing  and  give  me 
no  satisfaction,"  he  replied.  "  David  will  send 
word  to  me  the  instant  anything  definite  is 
known." 

"  I  have  found  it  difficult  to  express  to  you 
my  regret  in  the  matter  of  the  secret  circular," 
she  said.  "  I  do  not  wish  to  reproach  you, 
father  dear,  when  I  am  the  person  to  blame, 
but  I  feel  you  have  been  singularly  hard  and 
unforgiving  to  me.  Not  that  I  ask  you  to 
forgive  me,"  she  hastened  to  add  ;  "  that  would 
be  ridiculous  and  sentimental,  as  I  meant  the 
matter  to  your  advantage.  I  admit  frankly 
my  mistake.  You  can't  possibly  feel  any  more 
distressed  over  it  than  I  do.  But,  had  the 
venture  turned  out  to  be  successful,  no  one 
would  have  been  more  delighted  than  you. 
At  least  I  think  you  might  be  just  enough  to 
admit  that." 

"  You  mistake  me,  Portia,"  he  answered,  "  if 
you  think  my  judgment  in  the  matter  is  to  be 
so  moved.  Whether  the  circular  proved  to 
be  successful  or  not,  the  facts  are  unchanged. 
It  was  anonymous,  which  I  should  always 


324  The  Washingtonians 

condemn ;  it  insulted  the  President,  which  is 
unpardonable ;  and  the  whole  tone  was  inde- 
scribably vulgar." 

There  was  a  silence  of  several  moments. 

Then  he  continued :  "  I  had  intended  never 
to  refer  to  the  subject;  but,  since  you  have 
opened  the  discussion  of  your  own  accord,  I 
must  tell  you  (that  I  was  never  more  aston- 
ished. It  is  something  your  mother  would 
not  have  thought  of  doing.  It  grieved  me." 

Her  mother's  gentle  wraith  thus  summoned 
into  the  conversation  brought  to  mind  the 
faded  daguerreotype  her  father  cherished.  She 
recalled  the  pretty  timid  face  so  like  Virginia's. 

"  No,"  she  retorted,  with  unmistakable  em- 
phasis, "  I  don't  think  she  would  have  thought 
of  doing  it.  She  probably  was  very  sweet,  but 
her  being  my  mother  doesn't  alter  the  fact  that 
she  doesn't  look  as  if  she  had  been  overbur- 
dened with  brains." 

He  regarded  her  with  horror.  Was  this 
his  daughter  speaking  so  of  the  mother  that 
had  died  when  she  was  born  ? 

Portia  had  already  repented  of  the  bitter, 
jealous  words  as  she  perceived  they  had  only 
served  to  widen  the  breach  between  her  father 
and  herself. 

"  I  have  nothing  more  to  say  to  you,"  he 
said.  "  Go  to  your  husband.  My  son-in-law 
has  never  been  congenial  to  me,  but  I  respect 
him  for  his  honesty  and  common  sense.  I 


The  Washingtonians  325 

have  no  doubt  that,  had  you  advised  with  him 
in  regard  to  the  circular,  that  foolish  mistake 
never  would  have  been  made." 

She  answered  him  with  indignation.  "  If  I 
had  followed  my  husband's  advice  I  should 
have  opposed  you." 

He  made  no  reply,  but  pushed  aside  the 
luncheon  dishes  and  began  to  get  out  the 
materials  for  writing.  His  lips  were  white 
with  emotion. 

"Is  this  all  you  have  to  say  to  me?"  she 
cried. 

He  wrote  in  silence  some  moments.  Then 
he  laid  down  his  pen  and  looked  up  at  her. 
"  You  are  making  me  miserable.  I  dislike 
quarrelling  and  bickering,  and  this  undignified 
reference  to  a  painful  subject.  I  wish  you 
would  write  to  Virginia  to  come  home,  that  is, 
if  it  would  not  cut  the  child's  visit  short. 
Don't  urge  her  if  she  is  enjoying  herself.  But 
I  miss  her.  And  I  think  we  need  her  to 
keep  us  sweet  here  in  this  household.  I  shall 
also  speak  to  David  to  see  that  he  doesn't  tor- 
ment her.  She's  too  much  of  a  child  to  enjoy 
having  any  one  make  love  to  her."  He  made 
an  effort  at  kindliness.  "  You  should  go  for 
a  walk  this  lovely  day,  Portia.  You  are  not 
looking  as  well  as  usual." 

"  Thank  you,  I  will  go  in  a  minute,"  she 
answered. 

Leaning    back  in   the  cushioned  chair,  she 


326  The  Washingtonians 

watched  her  father  as  he  bent  over  his  writing. 
He  wanted  Virginia  while  she  was  there,  Vir- 
ginia, who  looked  upon  him  as  her  indulgent, 
middle-aged  uncle,  the  source  of  endless  gifts 
and  sweetmeats.  She  knew  well  enough  that 
had  she  done  this  very  thing  she  would  have 
cried  and  kissed  and  coaxed  the  Secretary  into 
forgiveness.  The  picture  her  imagination 
drew  sickened  her.  Not  for  anything  would 
she  send  for  Virginia  to  come  home.  For  the 
first  time  she  was  dissatisfied  with  her  father. 
He  was  petty  in  his  judgment  of  her.  She 
knew  wherein  his  real  resentment  lay  ;  she  had 
presumed  to  meddle  in  his  affairs.  He  per- 
sisted in  judging  her  from  an  irritating,  mas- 
culine point  of  view  as  unwomanly.  She  saw 
now  that  he  disliked  her  intellectual  attain- 
ments ;  that  he  did  not  crave  her  appreciation 
of  his  best  qualities. 

"  I  do  not  fit  in  with  his  old-fashioned 
ideas,"  ran  her  bitter  thought.  "  He  pre- 
fers Virginia  to  make  him  worsted  slippers, 
though  I  would  spare  nothing  to  make  him 
President."  This  unworldly  attitude  in  him 
toward  women  had  formerly  wakened  her  in- 
dulgence, even  her  approval,  for  it  made  him 
possible  to  manage  in  warding  off  a  second 
marriage.  Now,  however,  it  wakened  her 
contempt.  His  stately  words  had  not  in  the 
least  convinced  her,  and  she  still  believed  that 
he  would  have  been  delighted  had  the  circular 


The  Washingtonians  327 

proved  a  success,  and  so  furthered  his  tre- 
mendous ambition. 

The  Secretary  had  tried  in  vain  to  concen- 
trate his  attention  upon  his  work.  He  was  all 
too  conscious  of  his  daughter's  disapproving 
gaze,  and  annoyed  with  her  almost  beyond 
endurance.  Would  she  never  go  ?  He  wished 
to  be  alone. 

She  wished  she  had  not  destroyed  the  paper 
he  had  written  Christmas  afternoon  on  the 
political  future  of  the  negro.  In  all  her  life 
she  had  never  done  anything  that  had  hurt 
her  self-respect  quite  as  much.  It  stuck  in  her 
memory  like  an  ugly  thing,  and  she  could 
not  rid  herself  of  it  unless  she  told  him.  But 
what  right  had  she  to  burden  him  further  with 
her  own  wrong-doing?  He  was  so  happily 
innocent  of  it  all.  And  yet  to  have  the  ugly 
episode  always  in  her  mind !  She  wavered. 
Lack  of  courage  did  not  restrain  her  as  much 
as  a  conscientious  scruple  for  fear  of  wounding 
him.  But  her  selfishness  ruled  the  day. 

"  There's  one  thing  I  must  tell  you.  I 
destroyed  your  paper  on  the  enfranchisement 
of  the  negro.  You  put  it  out  on  the  hall  table 
to  be  mailed,  and  I  saw  it  and  tore  it  up." 

She  drew  a  long  breath  of  relief.  Confes- 
sion was  good  for  the  soul,  and  she  felt  she 
had  cast  a  burden  from  her. 

The  Secretary's  weary  eyes  met  her  own. 

"  Yes,  my  dear,"  he  said. 


328  The  Washingtonians 

Humiliated  as  she  was,  Portia  laughed  at 
his  expression  of  resignation. 

"  I  haven't  broken  all  of  the  ten  command- 
ments yet,  father.  I  have  no  further  revela- 
tions to  make."  But  she  could  have  wept  at 
his  indifference. 

He  glanced  up  as  she  still  lingered,  and 
she  read  his  expression  of  mingled  dislike  and 
nervousness. 

She  felt  an  almost  impersonal  pity  for  his 
condition  as  she  went  out  of  the  room  and  left 
him  to  his  work. 

General  Matthews  was  lying  on  the  lounge. 

"  When  did  you  come  home  ?  "  she  asked. 
"  I  thought  you  were  in  town." 

"  I  got  in  about  half  an  hour  ago,"  he  an- 
swered. "  I  heard  you  talking  in  the  library 
with  your  father,  so  I  came  on  up  here.  I've 
been  looking  over  my  log-book." 

She  sat  down  on  the  edge  of  the  bed  and 
began  unfastening  her  slippers. 

"  Are  you  going  out  ?  Do  you  want  your 
walking-shoes  ? "  he  inquired,  rising.  He 
went  to  the  closet  and  brought  them  out. 

"  Thank  you,"  she  said.  "  Yes,  I  am  going 
out." 

On  her  dressing-table  was  a  bowl  of  roses. 
She  knew  at  once  that  he  had  brought  them 
to  her.  It  was  the  first  concession  he  had 
made  for  days,  but  she  was  not  now  disposed 
to  accept  it  in  any  spirit  of  grace. 


The  Washingtonians  329 

•'  I  suppose  you,  too,  despise  me,"  she  said, 
stormily,  raising  her  blue  eyes  to  his. 

"  Why  ?  "  he  asked,  making  a  weak  attempt 
at  subterfuge.  He  knew  she  must  refer  to  the 
matter  of  the  circular,  but  he  did  not  wish  her 
to  think  he  thought  too  seriously  of  it.  His 
heart  had  been  full  of  pity  for  her  ever  since 
the  painful  dinner-scene,  which  had  straightway 
caused  him  to  forget  his  own  grievances.  But 
she  had  not  afforded  him  the  least  opportunity 
to  show  his  tenderness,  and  this  was  her  first 
reference  to  that  unhappy  evening. 

She  gave  him  a  look  of  scorn,  and  made  no 

He  felt  himself  a  hopeless  blunderer.  "  How 
should  I  despise  you,  my  dearest?  I  knew 
of  the  circular  the  day  before  your  father  did, 
and  I  said  nothing  to  you." 

"  Did  you  know  I  wrote  it  ? "  she  cried, 
turning  on  him. 

He  hesitated.  "  I'm  afraid  I  did.  No  one 
told  me,  but  as  I  read  it,  it  flashed  over  me 
that  you  had  had  something  to  do  with  it.  I 
recognised  your  phrases,  and  then  I  remem- 
bered some  paper  Chadwick  had  been  wanting 
to  see  you  about.  And,  to  be  entirely  frank 
with  you  about  it,  my  dear,  the  paper  sounded 
inexperienced  to  me,  somehow  like  a  woman. 
I  —  I  —  was  very  sorry  about  it.  It  was  too 
late  for  me  to  hush  it  up.  I'd  have  bought  it 
up  if  I  could." 


330  The  Washingtonians 

She  looked  at  his  honest,  anxious  face,  and 
her  own  flushed  bright  with  mortification. 
Then  he  had  known  all  during  that  terrible 
preliminary  conversation  at  the  table.  How 
he  must  have  pitied  and  scorned  her !  She 
could  bear  better  her  father's  coldness. 

"  You  are  so  good,"  she  cried,  shaking  with 
anger.  "  You  have  such  an  idea  of  duty  that  I 
suppose  you  would  not  even  permit  yourself 
to  laugh  at  me,  or  to  admit  what  a  fool  I  had 
been.  Having  married  me,  you  had  too  much 
pride  not  to  stand  by  me.  Was  that  what  you 
thought? " 

cc  No,"  he  said,  simply,  "  I  was  sorry.  I 
could  only  think,  '  Poor  Portia,  poor  child.' 
You  see  the  instant  I  read  it  I  knew  it  was 
a  mistake,  and  I  blamed  myself  in  not  having 
insisted  upon  knowing  what  Chadwick  wanted 
of  you  that  night.  I  ought  to  have  been 
firmer.  It  was  my  fault." 

She  had  finished  lacing  up  her  shoes,  and 
now  she  rose,  her  heart  beating  heavily,  and 
went  to  her  hat-box. 

As  she  took  out  her  hat  and  put  it  on  with 
trembling  hands,  she  was  reminded  of  how 
Countess  Polonski's  hands  had  trembled  the 
afternoon  General  Matthews  had  entered  the 
room  and  so  insultingly  ignored  her.  She 
opened  her  bureau-drawer  and  took  out  a 
pair  of  gloves,  but  did  not  stop  to  put  them 
on. 


The  Washingtonians  33  i 

"  I  am  going  for  a  walk,"  she  said,  and  left 
the  room  without  looking  toward  her  husband. 
In  the  hall,  as  she  was  turning  to  go  down- 
stairs, she  suddenly  realised  that  she  had  for- 
gotten an  outside  wrap,  and  went  back  to 
get  it. 

Matthews  had  not  moved  from  his  position 
on  the  lounge.  He  did  not  turn  nor  speak 
to  her  as  she  entered,  but  as  she  opened  the 
drawer  of  her  bureau  to  take  out  her  purse 
she  caught  the  reflection  of  his  unhappy  face 
in  the  mirror. 

She  went  down  the  gravelled  driveway  under 
the  Lombardy  poplars.  A  strong  wind  was 
blowing,  and  the  tree-tops  swayed  above  her 
head  as  she  looked  up  at  the  sky.  It  had 
clouded  over  within  the  last  hour.  She  walked 
rapidly,  drawing  on  her  tan  gloves,  haunted  by 
the  expression  on  her  husband's  face.  She 
wished  she  had  said  some  little  pleasant  thing 
the  second  time  she  went  out  of  the  room. 
He  irritated  her  by  his  oversensitiveness. 

In  about  a  mile  and  a  half  she  reached  the 
omnibus  station.  It  was  an  open  shed  with 
a  bench  running  around  the  three  inside  walls. 
Too  impatient  to  sit  still,  she  walked  up  and 
down  while  she  waited.  The  omnibus  came 
at  last.  An  old  gentleman,  whose  country 
residence  was  not  far  from  them,  got  out  and 
entered  his  carriage  which  had  been  waiting 
for  him.  Portia  had  turned  her  back  toward 


332  The  Washingtonians        • 

him  so  as  not  to  be  obliged  to  speak.  Her 
mood  was  not  one  of  cordiality. 

As  she  entered  the  coach  she  saw  two  invalid 
soldiers,  who,  not  yet  strong  enough  to  walk 
any  distance,  were  enjoying  the  luxury  of  a 
first  ride.  She  sat  down  opposite  them,  and 
they,  with  the  freedom  of  their  class,  did  not 
hesitate  to  address  her  in  a  spirit  of  bonhomie. 
Their  childlike  enjoyment  of  their  trip,  their 
quaint,  shrewd  comments,  distracted  her  from 
her  sombre  mood,  and  she  entered  heartily 
into  conversation  with  them.  They  on  their 
part  felt  a  gallant  desire  to  entertain  this  gra- 
cious and  beautiful  lady.  The  more  excitable 
of  the  two  described  a  terrible  battle-field.  He 
was  interrupted  by  his  companion,  who  con- 
sidered the  details  too  horrible  for  a  woman's 
ears. 

"  I  was  much  interested,"  said  Portia  to 
him,  "  but  I  think  you  are  right.  It  does 
no  good  to  talk  about  it  now  that  it  is  past. 
We  all  have  much  to  forget."  She  sighed, 
thinking  of  La  Cerf,  the  pity  of  whose  death 
still  lingered  with  her.  She  had  to  struggle 
not  to  feel  herself  responsible  for  it.  "  I 
suppose  you  are  interested  in  politics,"  she 
continued,  smiling.  "  Has  it  been  definitely 
decided  that  the  soldiers  are  to  be  allowed  to 
vote  ?  " 

"  Yes'm,"  answered  the  older  of  them, 
eagerly,  "it'll  be  my  first  vote  for  a  Presi- 


The  Washingtonians  333 

dent.  We're  to  send  our  votes  home  by 
mail." 

"  Who  stands  the  best  chance,  do  you 
think  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  Don't  you  worry,  ma'am,"  he  replied, 
cheerily ;  "  we  boys  want  the  President  back 
again,  and  the  people  are  going  to  vote  with 
the  soldiers,  you  can  bet." 

She  had  regarded  them  with  kindly  interest 
and  admiration  for  their  manliness.  Now  she 
experienced  a  revulsion  of  feeling,  a  dislike  of 
their  uncouth  speech,  and  scorn  for  their 
primitiveness.  They  would  cast  their  vote 
for  the  reelection  of  the  President.  And  why 
not  ?  Surely  he  was  their  kind. 

She  paid  no  more  attention  to  them.  The 
look  of  hauteur  and  coldness,  the  very  ex- 
pression which  in  her  father  had  so  often 
aroused  antagonism,  now  settled  upon  her 
own  features. 

The  two  soldiers  felt  vaguely  uncomfortable 
and  rebuked.  Scarcely  more  than  boys,  weak 
and  sensitive  from  their  sickness,  they  were 
depressed  by  her  sudden  change  of  manner. 
They  now  fully  noticed  how  cold  the  wind  had 
become  and  that  the  sky  which  had  been  so 
blue  when  they  started  was  gloomy.  They 
sat  solemn  and  silent,  now  and  then  jogging 
wearily  against  each  other. 

Portia,  absorbed  again  in  her  unhappiness 
and  anxiety,  forgot  their  presence.  As  the 


334  The  Washingtonians 

omnibus  neared  a  branch  telegraph  station  she 
rang  the  bell  for  the  driver  to  stop.  She  did 
not  so  much  as  glance  toward  the  soldiers  as 
she  went  by  them  on  her  way  out. 


Chapter   XXIII 

PRENTISS  sought  relief  from  the  general 
depression  in  the  house  that  evening  by 
working  on  his  play.  As  yet  no  decisive  word 
had  been  received  as  to  how  the  convention 
was  going.  Senator  Chadwick  sent  contradic- 
tory telegrams.  The  last  message,  however, 
was  hopeful,  and  West  seemed  to  be  winning. 

Although  the  wind  that  had  risen  in  the 
afternoon  was  still  blowing  high,  it  had  not  yet 
begun  to  rain. 

General  Matthews,  after  dinner,  had  had  his 
horse  saddled  and  ridden  into  town,  promis- 
ing to  return  as  soon  as  any  final  word  was 
sent  in. 

Prentiss  was  thankful  to  be  alone  and  to 
shut  himself  away  from  the  oppressive  atmos- 
phere of  politics. 

The  green-globed  lamp  cast  its  soft  circle  of 
light  over  his  paper.  The  marble  bust  of  the 
Secretary  seemed  to  watch  him  benignly  as 
ever  from  its  shadowed  alcove.  The  splendid 
face  had  greater  benignity  of  look  in  the  mar- 
ble than  in  the  flesh. 

The  young  man  regarded  it  reverently. 
Long  association  with  his  patron  had  taught 
335 


336  The  Washingtonians 

him  above  all  else  to  value  his  goodness  and 
character.  More  unselfishly  even  than  his 
daughter  did  Prentiss  hope  for  West's 
triumph.  His  own  ambitions  lay  entirely 
along  scholarly  lines,  and  he  was  willing  that 
his  own  personality  should  be  hidden  behind  a 
successful  literary  achievement. 

His  play  was  nearing  completion.  The 
Polonski  denouement  had  inspired  him  with  a 
fresh  conception  of  two  of  his  minor  characters, 
and  he  planned  to  use  the  striking  incident  of 
Chadwick's  marriage  as  effectually  disguised  as 
possible.  He,  who  had  felt  not  the  least  per- 
sonal sympathy  for  either  the  Senator  or  the 
impostor  countess,  now  found  his  imagination 
fired  by  sympathy  for  their  romance.  He 
flung  himself  heart  and  soul  into  Chadwick's 
probable  feeling,  appreciated  with  him  the 
mysterious  fascination  of  the  Russian's  beauty, 
saw  her  upon  the  stage  in  the  glamour  of  the 
footlights,  realised  the  ardent  love  she  had 
wakened  so  strangely  in  the  man's  unpas- 
sionate,  narrow  nature.  And  as  he  wrote  on, 
her  character  cried  out  to  him  for  sympathy  so 
that  he  began  to  understand  and  pity  her.  She 
would  not  be  able  to  endure  the  daily  compan- 
ionship of  a  man  like  Chadwick.  It  was  not 
easy  to  step  from  the  tragic  to  the  common- 
place. She  must  know  that  she  had  lived  her 
life  in  experience  if  not  in  years.  She  was  like 
a  rare  jewel,  the  cause  of  crimes  for  its  posses- 


The  Washingtonians  337 

sion,  flashing  a  mysterious  colour  as  the  casket 
containing  it  was  opened  for  a  moment.  So 
did  she  come  from  out  the  shadow  of  her  past 
into  Chadwick's  life,  to  fill  him  for  ever  with 
longing  and  then  to  slip  away  into  the  deeper 
shadow.  Prentiss  saw  that  she  must  die.  As 
the  tragedy  deepened  in  his  mind  his  excite- 
ment made  him  rise  and  walk  up  and  down 
the  long  room.  This  had  changed  the  entire 
ending  of  his  play.  He  could  see  it  all  enacted 
on  the  stage ;  he  was  watching  the  effect  on 
the  audience,  their  amazement,  their  dawning 
resentment  at  the  playwright's  presumption 
swallo-ved  up  in  the  absorbing  tragedy. 

"  It  is  the  way  it  happens  in  real  life,"  he 
said  aloud  ;  "  the  tragedy  occurs,  and  the  thun- 
derbolt from  the  clear  sky  strikes  the  person 
we  thought  most  secure." 

He  stopped  his  nervous  pacing  up  and 
down  and  resumed  his  seat  at  the  table.  He 
worked  steadily  for  an  hour,  and  then  suddenly 
looked  up,  startled.  The  thought  of  Virginia 
had  come  into  his  mind.  For  a  moment  he 
seemed  to  see  her  seated  opposite  him  on  the 
other  side  of  the  table,  her  head  bent,  the  soft 
light  falling  on  her  lovely  profile,  on  the  bit  of 
blue  velvet  ribbon  in  her  brown  hair. 

His  inspiration  left  him.  All  his  sadness 
returned.  Why  should  he  work?  How 
empty  his  success  would  be  without  her  !  He 
put  away  his  manuscript.  He  would  work  no 


338  The  Washingtonians 

more  that  night.  As  he  was  about  to  close 
and  lock  the  drawer  he  saw  in  the  corner  of  it 
the  string  of  coral  beads.  It  was  his  sole  me- 
mento of  her.  For  the  first  time  he  became 
conscious  that  it  was  raining  and  that  the 
steady  downpour  had  continued  for  some  time. 
He  wondered  if  General  Matthews  had  been 
caught  in  it,  and  decided  to  find  out  if  he  had 
returned.  If  he  had  he  had  not  brought  good 
news,  otherwise  Portia  would  have  come  in  to 
tell  him  at  once. 

Or,  he  hesitated,  should  he  stay  and  read  ? 
Read  —  what  should  he  read  ?  The  work  of 
a  philosopher  to  recall  by  contrast  all  that  was 
lovable  and  human  ?  A  poet  whose  written 
longing  would  intensify  his  own  ?  What  could 
console  him  for  her  rich  presence  ?  He  would 
seek  his  old  refuge  in  time  of  trouble ;  he  had 
passed  away  so  many  dreary  hours  at  the  piano. 
He  thought  with  bitter  cynicism  of  those  who 
could  pray.  His  pride  of  intellect  took  away 
consolation  derived  from  such  a  source. 

Never  had  the  wind  seemed  so  wild  and 
mournful  before.  How  it  howled  down  the 
chimney !  It  wakened  an  answering  savage 
mood  in  him. 

"It  isn't  a  civilised  wind,"  he  muttered,  "it 
blows  cold  from  out  the  past  when  people 
believed  in  witches.  On  such  a  night  as  this 
the  good  folk  must  have  heard  the  banshee 
sobbing  at  the  door." 


The  Washingtonians  339 

He  went  out  into  the  hall.  The  drawing- 
room  opposite  was  dark.  Evidently  the  family 
was  up-stairs.  The  long  hall  was  dimly  lighted 
by  a  lantern  Portia  had  brought  home  from 
Europe.  It  was  made  of  brass  set  with  discs 
of  coloured  glass.  These  glasses,  blue,  green, 
and  scarlet,  seemed  to  wink  at  him  like  wicked 
eyes. 

The  wind  blew  against  the  great  front  door 
and  the  rain  rattled  upon  the  glass.  How  the 
wind  tried  to  force  an  entrance  !  A  reckless- 
ness swept  over  him.  Let  the  wind  come  in 
if  it  would.  Why  shut  it  out  to  listen  longer 
to  its  banshee  wail  ? 

He  seized  the  handle  and  flung  open  the 
door. 

The  wind  whistled  by  him  down  the  hall. 
There  was  a  mist  of  rain  ;  the  roaring  of  the 
bending  poplars  down  the  driveway ;  the 
porch-lantern  swinging,  a  yellow  blur,  in 
the  black  night.  All  this  he  saw. 

But  what  was  fallen  against  his  breast,  what 
hair  was  blown  wet  across  his  face  ? 

He  closed  the  door  and  shut  out  the  wild 
night.  He  drew  her  into  the  library  with  him. 

"  Virginia,  Virginia,"  he  said.  He  pushed 
a  chair  toward  the  fire  and  made  her  sit  down. 
Her  hat  was  gone ;  her  long  travelling  cloak 
was  dripping  wet ;  the  edge  of  her  skirt  and 
her  feet  were  covered  with  mud.  She  was  shiv- 
ering with  cold  and  exhaustion. 


34°  The  Washingtonians 

"  Who  is  sick  ?  "  she  asked.  "  Is  it  Uncle 
Phineas  ?  " 

"  My  darling,"  he  cried,  "  no  one  is  ill. 
What  brought  you  home  at  this  hour  of  night  ? 
What  has  happened  ?  " 

"  I  thought  something  terrible  had  hap- 
pened. I  thought  I  would  never  get  here. 
Portia  telegraphed  me  to  come  home." 

"  Nothing  has  happened,"  he  assured  her. 
"  Nothing.  Portia  wanted  you  home.  Per- 
haps your  uncle  asked  for  you." 

He  drew  her  cloak  from  her  and  flung  it 
aside.  It  had  protected  her  dress  so  that  her 
shoulders  were  quite  dry.  He  added  another 
log  to  the  fire  which  blazed  up  cheerfully. 
Kneeling  on  the  rug  in  front  of  her  he  drew 
off  her  shoes.  They  were  heavy  with  mud 
and  water. 

"  How  did  you  get  here  like  this,  Virginia  ?  " 
he  asked. 

"  I  had  to  take  a  late  train  up  from  Alex- 
andria, and  it  was  eight  o'clock  when  we  reached 
Washington.  The  hackman  I  engaged  to 
drive  me  home  was  drunk,  and  just  after  we 
left  the  city  he  collided  with  a  farmer  and  one 
of  the  carriage  wheels  came  off.  They  began  to 
quarrel.  Oh,  it  was  awful  to  hear  them  talk 
to  each  other !  I  opened  the  door  and  called 
to  them  to  stop,  and  the  man  who  was  driving 
swore  at  me  and  told  me  to  hold  my  tongue. 
And  then,  David,  I  was  so  angry  to  think  that 


The  Washingtonians  341 

they  would  quarrel  when  perhaps  you,  or 
Cousin  Tom,  or  Uncle  Phineas,  was  ill,  and 
Portia  needed  me.  I  got  out  and  ran  down 
the  road  past  them.  I  hadn't  been  afraid  be- 
fore, but  running  away  seemed  to  make  me 
afraid.  I  thought  that  drunken  man  would 
follow  and  try  to  kill  me.  And  if  he  did,  then 
you  would  never  know  I  loved  you." 

She  had  been  leaning  back  in  the  chair.  Now 
she  raised  herself  and  put  out  her  arms  to  him 
kneeling  before  her. 

He  gathered  her  close  to  him.  "  Virginia," 
he  said,  looking  down  at  the  wet,  tangled  head 
upon  his  breast,  "  you  never  doubted  my  love, 
did  you  ?  " 

She  lifted  her  face  to  smile  at  him.  "No; 
but  I  was  afraid  of  you.  I  knew  you  would 
be  angry  with  me  and  so  I  went  away.  But  I 
didn't  go  so  far  that  you  couldn't  come  to  me. 
And  you  never  came  !  Every  day  I  watched 
for  you.  Every  night  I  thought  you  would 
come  to-morrow." 

The  austerity  she  dreaded  settled  again  upon 
his  face. 

"  I  said  to  myself  you  would  have  to 
come  back  to  me,"  he  answered.  "It  was 
not  for  me  to  follow  you  after  the  letter  you 
left." 

Her  mouth  drooped  and  trembled.  She 
wanted  her  lover,  not  the  chiding  tutor  of  the 
old  days.  Timidly  she  put  her  face  forward 


The  Washingtonians 


and  kissed  him,  thinking  to  win  him  back  to 
tenderness, 

Beneath  that  timid  kiss  his  own  heart 
throbbed.  He  laughed  out,  suddenly,  joy- 
ously. 

"  Did  the  wind  bring  you  here  this  wild 
night,  Virginia  ?  Were  you  the  banshee  that 
I  heard  wailing  at  the  door  ?  " 

Her  eyes  smiled  at  him.  "  I  called  and 
called  and  pounded  on  the  door,  but  no  one 
came  to  let  me  in." 

"  The  wind  was  so  loud,"  he  said.  "  Sit 
still,  dearest,  sit  still.  The  others  in  the  house 
do  not  need  you  yet." 

He  chafed  her  little  wet  stockinged  feet 
and  pushed  back  the  soaked  hem  of  her  dress 
that  her  ankles  might  get  the  heat  from  the 
fire. 

"  Hear  how  the  wind  howls  down  the 
chimney,"  she  said.  "  Does  the  fire  make 
you  think  of  the  one  they  had  at  the  gypsy- 
camp  ?  David,  I  never  told  Portia  about  her 
Jersey  cow,  did  you  ?  " 

He  laughed.  "  I  never  did.  I  was  afraid 
she  would  scold  me  for  not  letting  her  know 
at  once." 

Her  face  saddened,  and  he  knew  of  whom 
she  thought.  "  Listen,"  she  said,  holding  up 
her  finger.  "  The  wind  sounded  just  now 
like  Mr.  La  Cerf's  music.  Can  you  hear  it, 
too  ?  " 


The  Washingtonians  343 

The  sudden  anger  that  swept  over  his  face 
frightened  her. 

"  David,"  she  said,  piteously,  "  I  never 
loved  him,  although  I  thought  I  did.  It  was 
always  you." 

"  I  know  it,  but  why  did  you  turn  to  him 
from  me  ?  "  he  cried,  bitterly.  "  How  can  I 
forget  it?  Had  he  been  a  gentleman,  but 
an  Indian  !  "  Ashamed  of  his  lack  of  gener- 
osity, he  hid  his  face  on  her  lap. 

She  put  her  hand  on  his  head.  "  Once  you 
said  to  me,  David,  that  we  must  not  ruin 
our  happiness  by  indulgence  in  any  morbid 
thoughts,  and  while  I  was  away  I  used  to 
think  of  that.  I  told  myself  that  if  you  ever 
took  me  back  I  would  be  wise.  And  you 
must  be,  too."  There  was  a  new  tone  in 
Virginia's  voice,  a  suggestion  of  deepening 
maturity.  He  raised  himself  to  look  up  at 
her.  Had  his  little  girl  suddenly  become  a 
woman  ?  "  And  you  must  not  act  like  a  fool- 
ish, jealous  boy  if  you  wish  to  help  me  to  be 
wise,"  she  added,  gently. 

"  Was  there  ever  any  one  like  you,  my 
darling?"  he  cried.  "How  have  you  become 
so  quickly  old  ? "  He  was  filled  with  deli- 
cious amusement. 

But  her  answering  gaze  sobered  him.  Grief 
had  changed  Virginia  from  the  child  to  the 
woman.  Tenderness,  even  deeper  than  he 
had  known  before,  spoke  now  in  his  embrace. 


344  The  Washingtonians 

His  sense  of  protection  was  wakened.  He 
must  never  let  anything  more  occur  to  grieve 
her.  He  felt  that  he  held  his  wife  in  his 
arms,  and  that  it  lay  with  him  to  make  her 
happy. 

"  I  must  build  up  the  fire,  dearest,  and  then 
I  will  go  and  get  you  something  to  eat  and 
drink,"  he  said.  But  first  he  brought  an 
afghan  from  the  lounge  and  wrapped  it  around 
her. 

Leaning  back  in  the  chair  she  watched  him 
dreamily.  The  warmth,  the  peace,  the  old 
love  come  back.  What  more  could  she  desire  ? 
Her  eyes  closed  wearily.  The  battle  with  the 
wind  and  rain  on  the  mud-furrowed  road  had 
exhausted  her  slight  strength.  But  now  she 
was  home  once  more  with  David. 

When  he  turned  to  speak  to  her  again  he 
saw  that  she  was  almost  asleep.  Her  head, 
with  its  loosened  masses  of  wet  brown  hair, 
nestled  in  the  bright-coloured  folds  of  the 
afghan  he  had  drawn  around  her.  Her  lips 
were  slightly  parted.  One  hand  rested  on  her 
breast. 

How  fair  she  was,  how  weary  ! 

He  noticed  that  the  hair  about  her  temples, 
beginning  to  dry,  curled  in  soft  tendrils. 

"  Virginia,"  he  whispered,  bending  over  her. 

She  did  not  move  to  his  whisper.  Her 
warm  breath  was  on  his  forehead. 

The  silence  filled  him  with  loneliness.     He 


The  Washingtonians  345 


remembered  La  Cerf,  and  thought  that  she, 
too,  some  day  would  die. 

He  knelt  beside  the  chair  and  flung  his  arm 
across  her. 

"  My  dearest,"  he  cried,  "  do  not  sleep  so 
long !" 

He  buried  his  face  on  her  breast.  For  a 
moment  it  had  seemed  to  him  as  if  he  were 
losing  her  again. 


Chapter   XXIV 

SECRETARY  WEST  had  retired  early. 
A    little    before    ten    Portia  looked   in 
upon  him. 

He  was  sitting  up  in  bed  reading. 

"  Are  you  perusing  that  dismal  book  again, 
father  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  No,  my  dear,"  he  answered  ;  "  I  was  turn- 
ing over  my  Burns." 

"  How  did  you  know  I  meant  the  Bible  ?  " 

He  chose  to  ignore  the  question. 

"It  seems  chilly  to  me  in  here.  Are  you 
warm  enough  ?  " 

"  I  am  entirely  comfortable,"  he  answered, 
his  fine  eyes  meeting  her  own  calmly.  What- 
ever his  emotions  might  be,  he  would  show  to 
her  but  the  outward  face  of  pride.  There  was 
something  brave  and  simple  about  him  as  he 
lay  there  amid  the  homely  furnishings  of  his 
room. 

She  seated  herself  at  the  foot  of  the  bed. 

He  reached  over,  and  took  a  paper  from 
the  table. 

"  I    have  here   a  letter  to   be  sent  only  in 
case  my  own  State  goes  against  me.    Of  course 
346 


The  Washingtonians  347 

I  shall  destroy  it  if  my  friends  prefer  me  to 
any  other  candidate.  The  reason  I  have  for 
writing  it  beforehand  is,  that  should  it  be 
necessary  to  send  it,  it  will  reflect  neither  dis- 
satisfaction or  passion,  nor  acquire  an  unjust 
tone  because  of  my  purely  personal  disap- 
pointment." 

She  took  it  and  glanced  it  over,  and  re-read 
the  closing  paragraph. 

"  And  I  may  add  that  it  affords  me  much 
gratification  to  reflect  that  those  who  desired 
my  nomination  desired  it  on  public  grounds 
alone,  and  that  they  have  not  hesitated  to  act 
on  such  grounds  only.  It  has  been  the  pleas- 
ure of  a  majority  of  our  friends  in  Ohio  to 
prefer  another.  I  accept  their  action  with  that 
cheerfulness  and  willingness  which  is  due  from 
me  to  friends  who  have  trusted  and  honoured 
me  beyond  any  claim  or  merit  of  mine." 

She  returned  it  to  him.  Quite  satisfied  with 
his  own  judgment,  he  did  not  observe  that  she 
made  no  comment,  and  he  put  it  down  again 
on  the  table. 

The  letter  had  almost  killed  her  hope.  The 
words  had  a  fatal  sound  to  her  mental  hearing, 
as  if  they  were  to  endure. 

Suddenly  his  self-control  was  swept  away  by 
emotion  too  long  suppressed. 

"  I  would  have  nothing  to  say  against  the 
President's  reelection  if  his  kindness  of  heart 
were  equalled  by  his  ability,  but  his  policy  is 


348  The  Washingtonians 

one  of  compromise  perverted  by  an  abortive 
humour.  My  ambition  has  been  an  honour- 
able one,  and  I  should  have  no  right  to  hold 
it  were  it  not  for  my  confidence  in  my  own 
strength.  I  feel  that  I  can  bring  this  war  to 
a  speedy  close,  but  above  all  am  I  convinced 
that  if  I  do  not  continue  to  hold  command  of 
the  financial  system  I  have  introduced,  it  will 
'become  more  productive  of  evil  in  time  of 
peace  than  it  has  accomplished  good  in  the 
hour  of  war." 

She  could  not  reply  for  the  many  thoughts 
that  crowded-  her  mind.  The  realisation  had 
at  last  come  to  her  that  their  continued  love 
for  each  other  depended  upon  his  success. 
Her  ambition  and  pride  had  never  required 
anything  of  him  but  position.  If  he  failed 
he  would  never  forget  the  unfortunate  secret 
circular.  Moreover,  how  could  he  be  sure  that 
she  would  not  scorn  rather  than  sympathise 
with  his  humiliation  ?  How  could  she  even 
be  sure  of  her  own  feeling  for  him  if  at  this 
last  he  failed  her  ?  She  had  done  everything 
for  him.  The  flaw  must  be  in  him.  She  had 
made  a  rich  marriage,  although  she  was  forced 
to  admit  her  husband's  money  had  helped 
them  more  socially  than  politically. 

"  By  the  way,  Portia,"  he  remarked,  "  I 
happened  to  see  a  notice  of  Senator  Chad- 
wick's  marriage  in  the  Tribune.  I  thought  it 
would  not  be  long  before  the  papers  got  it." 


The  Washingtonians  349 

"  I  am  not  at  all  surprised,"  she  answered. 
"  I  wonder  if  the  marriage  will  turn  out  to 
be  for  the  best.  He  will  make  money  and 
keep  his  place  in  the  Senate,  and  she  has  great 
tact,  so  that  in  the  end  they  will  have  as  good 
a  position  as  any  of  us.  The  world  forgets 
our  early  mistakes  if  we  have  present  success. 
Poor  Katrina  !  If  she  doesn't  love  Chadwick 
she  will  feel  as  much  an  adventuress  as  ever 
in  spite  of  her  marriage." 

"  I  am  very  sorry  for  her,"  said  the  Secre- 
tary, "  very.  An  unusual  woman.  She  had 
the  most  remarkable  eyes  I  ever  saw.  They 
were  wonderfully  expressive."  He  recalled 
her  attentive  attitude  whenever  he  spoke,  her 
gentle  manner,  her  little  domestic  airs,  the  jar 
of  orange  marmalade  she  made  herself  and 
brought  to  him.  He  sighed. 

Portia  laughed.  "  Evidently  I  didn't  send 
Chadwick  any  too  soon  for  my  own  peace  of 
mind,  did  I,  father  dear  ? "  She  rose.  "  I 
will  bring  you  word  the  instant  it  comes." 

Left  alone,  the  Secretary  put  aside  his 
Burns,  and  turned  to  his  Bible.  In  it  was  to 
be  found  strong  meat  for  men.  He  read,  and 
the  excitement  of  renewed  hope  flushed  his 
face.  He  felt  that  success  could  not  fail  him. 
Outside  his  window  he  could  hear  the  steady 
fall  of  the  rain,  but  his  attention  was  strained 
for  the  sound  of  Matthews's  returning. 

Mrs.    Matthews    went   down-stairs    smiling 


350  The  Washingtonians 

at  the  look  of  annoyance  her  intimation  had 
brought  to  her  father's  face.  She  saw  Prentiss 
coming  through  the  hall  from  the  dining-room, 
and  called  to  him.  "  Wait,  David,  I  want  to 
speak  to  you.  I  am  a  little  worried  about 
Tom.  It  really  is  a  dreadful  night  for  him 
to  be  out.  He  went  on  his  saddle-horse,  but 
I  think  he  will  have  the  common  sense  to 
take  a  carriage  home,  and  leave  his  horse  in 
town,  don't  you  ? "  She  had  not  thought 
of  it  before,  but  she  began  to  resent  the  fact 
that  Prentiss  himself  had  not  shown  sufficient 
interest  to  go. 

"  I  think  so,"  he  answered,  looking  up  at 
her.  He  was  carrying  a  tray  on  which  was 
a  glass  of  wine  and  some  bread.  "  Virginia 
has  come  home.  She  is  tired,  and  wet  with 
the  rain." 

"  Why,  when  did  she  come  ? "  she  cried, 
amazed.  "  I  had  no  idea  the  child  would  take 
my  telegram  so  seriously  as  to  start  this  very 
night.  Father  seemed  to  miss  her,  and  so  I 
telegraphed  her  to  come  as  soon  as  possible. 
Where  is  she?" 

"  No,  no,"  he  interposed,  eagerly,  "  not  yet. 
It  is  so  long  since  I  have  seen  her." 

The  light  in  the  hall  was  dim,  but  she  could 
see  the  expression  on  his  face.  It  filled  her 
with  wonder. 

"  How  you  love  her,"  she  exclaimed,  "  how 
you  love  her  !  "  She  gave  him  a  good-natured 


The  Washingtonians  351 

little  push.  "  Go  back  to  her,  David,  I 
wouldn't  disturb  you  for  worlds.  I've  had 
enough  of  your  moping  around  these  last 
weeks  like  a  love-lorn  swain." 

Their  friendship,  which  had  been  trembling 
in  the  balance  since  the  dinner  scene  when  she 
had  confessed  her  part  in  the  secret  circular, 
was  suddenly  made  secure  by  that  touch  on 
his  shoulder.  He  knew  she  forgave  him  for 
having  witnessed  her  humiliation. 

"  Portia,"  he  said,  earnestly,  "  God  knows  I 
am  not  worthy  of  her." 

"  Oh,  spare  me,  David,"  she  retorted, 
lightly  ;  "  as  many  as  twenty  men  have  said 
that  of  me." 

But  when  the  library  door  had  closed  upon 
him  she  sighed.  Long  ago  his  face  had  been 
turned  to  her  with  just  such  an  expression. 
Then  she  heard  the  faint  echo  of  Virginia's  sweet 
laughter.  It  was  long  since  any  of  them  had 
laughed  in  the  house.  Her  father,  Prentiss, 
all  loved  Virginia,  and  she  —  Terrible  and 
morbid  thoughts  oppressed  her.  She  remem- 
bered that  her  cousin's  room  needed  to  be  pre- 
pared, and  she  went  back  to  attend  to  it,  glad 
of  the  relief  of  action. 

On  the  way  she  stopped  at  the  linen  closet 
and  took  out  the  clean  sheets  and  pillow  cases, 
fragrant  with  lavender.  As  she  lighted  the 
candles  on  the  mahogany  bureau  she  was  re- 
minded of  that  late  afternoon  in  the  fall  when 


352  The  Washingtonians 

she  had  found  Virginia  dressing.  What  years 
ago  it  seemed ! 

She  made  up  the  little  bed  and  put  the  fresh 
slips  on  the  pillows  and  the  ruffled  Swiss  cover 
on  the  bureau.  Then  she  went  to  get  one  of 
her  nightgowns,  for  Virginia's  trunk  would 
probably  not  come  until  morning. 

Her  own  spacious  and  comfortable  room, 
with  its  elaborate  and  lofty  moulding,  its  chintz- 
covered  furniture,  the  fragrance  of  roses,  the 
firelight  reflected  in  the  mirror,  welcomed  her. 
Her  maid  had  been  in  and  left  the  kettle  of 
hot  water  on  the  hearthstone  and  turned  down 
the  covers  of  the  bed  and  lowered  the  pillows 
for  the  night.  On  the  sofa  was  the  gener- 
al's log-book,  lying  open  face  down  as  he  had 
left  it. 

Her  slippers  and  wrapper  were  laid  on  the 
foot  of  the  bed. 

She  knelt  down  and  opened  the  lower 
drawer  of  her  bureau  and  found  a  nightgown 
with  a  blue  ribbon  run  through  the  lace  at  the 
neck.  Blue  was  Virginia's  colour,  and  she  felt 
an  unusual  tenderness  of  mood.  She  could 
never  forgive  her  father  for  his  preference  in 
loving  his  niece  best,  but  it  was  beneath  her  to 
be  long  jealous  of  Virginia,  who  was  but  a 
child. 

Until  this  evening  she  had  not  allowed  her- 
self to  think  of  what  she  should  do  if  her  father 
failed.  She  wished  she  had  some  loved  art  to 


The  Washingtonians  353 

fall  back  upon,  but  her  only  talent  was  a  social 
one.  She  was  more  intellectual  than  artistic, 
and  she  had  a  masculine  quality  of  mind  which 
made  her  love  public  and  political  matters. 
Mere  society  bored  her  unless  the  power  were 
given  her  to  create  a  court  not  inconsistent  with 
the  republic,  where  the  diplomatic  and  political 
parties  might  meet  and  men  of  wealth  or  genius 
congregate. 

Travelling  was  too  near  akin  to  idle  pleasure 
to  satisfy  her  energetic  and  ambitious  nature. 
Study  did  not  appeal  to  her  save  as  it  led  to 
practical  results,  and  the  thought  of  a  woman 
following  a  profession  offended  her  fastidious 
worldliness. 

"  I  should  have  been  a  man,"  she  said,  bit- 
terly. "  I  am  at  last  worn  out  and  discouraged 
with  this  striving  to  make  the  men  of  my  family 
amount  to  something." 

In  a  little  while,  indeed  any  moment  now, 
she  would  know  if  the  great  prize  of  the  Presi- 
dency were  to  elude  her  father  again.  It  was 
the  third  time  he  had  tried  for  it.  Did  Ohio 
fail  to  endorse  him  now  for  the  nomination  he 
would  withdraw  his  name  out  of  very  pride. 
She  recalled  the  words  of  a  well-known  Ameri- 
can. "  Gentlemen,  let  there  be  no  mistake.  I 
should  make  a  most  excellent  president,  but  a 
bad  candidate."  Surely  the  words  applied  to 
her  father. 

Well,  if  he  failed  she  would  still  have  left 


354  The  Washingtonians 

her  husband  and  domestic  happiness.  What 
irony  of  consolation  ! 

Oh,  would  Tom  never  come  to  let  her  know 
how  the  convention  stood  ! 

She  thought  she  heard  the  sound  of  a  car- 
riage and  so  ran  down  to  the  front  door  and 
opened  it.  The  flame  in  the  lantern  on  the 
verandah  had  been  blown  out  by  the  wind. 
She  stared  into  the  black  night  and  heard  the 
rain  and  waited,  listening  some  moments,  but 
no  other  sound  came.  She  stepped  outside 
and  lighted  the  lantern  again.  The  wind  had 
died  down.  Her  old  horror  of  suffocation  in 
such  a  dark  night  returned.  The  solemn 
monotony  of  the  unseen  rain  was  fearful  to  her. 
She  strained  her  eyes  to  see  beyond  the  waver- 
ing circle  the  lantern  cast.  Suppose  her  hus- 
band in  some  reckless  mood  had  decided  to 
ride  home,  as  he  had  started,  on  horseback,  and 
the  horse  had  stumbled  and  thrown  him.  In 
her  nervous  condition  this  fear  became  a  con- 
viction. 

The  next  hour  was  one  of  increasing  agony. 
She  held  her  watch  in  her  hand.  If  he  did 
not  return  within  that  time  she  would  order 
the  servants  and  horses  out  and  search  for 
him.  Why  had  she  ever  permitted  him  to 
venture  out  this  miserable  night?  At  least 
he  should  have  seen  that  it  was  going  to  rain, 
and  have  taken  the  closed  carriage.  Never 
even  while  he  was  at  the  war  had  she  known 


The  Washingtonians  355 

this  anxiety  for  him.  She  tried  to  think  why 
this  had  been  so ;  then  she  remembered  that 
as  long  as  she  had  had  her  father  she  had  been 
contented.  But  now  he  had  turned  from  her, 
and  her  husband  was  all  she  had  left.  How 
unfailingly  kind  and  good  Tom  had  been  to 
her !  Only  that  afternoon  he  had  been  so 
contentedly  reading  his  log-book.  As  she 
looked  back  upon  it  now  he  seemed  patheti- 
cally boyish  and  simple  in  his  soldierly  pride. 
She  wished  she  had  kissed  him  good-bye 
before  she  went  out  to  telegraph  to  Virginia. 
There  came  into  her  mind  a  vision  of  that 
quiet  room  up-stairs,  their  room  where  she 
had  nursed  him  during  his  long  illness,  where 
so  many  nights  they  had  slept  side  by  side. 
What  if  that  room  should  never  know  his 
actual  living  presence  again  ?  She  tried  to 
imagine  her  life  without  him,  but  she  was  too 
intelligent  a  woman  not  to  appreciate  how 
lonely  she  would  be  without  his  sympathy  and 
support.  The  ever-present  sense  of  the  lovers 
in  the  adjoining  room  was  oppressive.  The 
marriage  of  Virginia  would  push  Portia  a  step 
on  in  life.  And  when  youth  left  her  what 
would  she  be  if  her  husband  too  were  gone? 
A  lonely  old  woman  talking  over  her  con- 
quests of  bygone  years,  giving  her  bits  of  real 
lace  and  jewelry  to  the  girls  of  a  yet  unborn 
generation,  who  would  listen  to  her  aged 
vanities  !  She  shuddered. 


The  Washingtonians 


The  opening  of  the  front  door,  when  she 
had  gone  out  to  light  the  lantern,  had  sprung 
slightly  the  library  door,  so  that  the  voices  of 
the  lovers  might  have  reached  her  distinctly 
had  she  chosen  to  listen.  But  it  had  been  an 
idle  sound  in  her  ears,  until  all  at  once  she 
was  conscious  of  Prentiss's  pleading  voice. 

"  My  darling,  won't  you  believe  me  ?  I 
never  loved  Portia." 

She  lifted  her  head  amazed,  then  felt  her 
face  burn  with  shame.  The  tender,  half- 
regretful  thoughts  she  had  often  bestowed 
upon  that  early  attachment  stung  now  like 
whips.  In  that  moment  she  knew  that  if  any- 
thing should  happen  this  night  to  her  husband, 
she  would  never  wish  to  see  Prentiss  again. 

She  had  not  prayed,  except  conventionally, 
for  years,  but  now  she  did  so,  and  with  the 
simplicity  of  great  distress  and  consciousness 
of  human  helplessness  she  promised  that  she 
would  receive  with  thankfulness  the  news  of 
defeat  if  her  husband  were  returned  to  her 
safely.  In  this  eager  choice  for  her  best  hap- 
piness she  took  not  the  least  thought  for  her 
father  waiting  in  almost  unendurable  agony  of 
mind  for  the  decision  of  his  friends. 

"And  even  if  I  were  to  die,"  spoke  Vir- 
ginia's lovely  voice,  "you  would  still  —  " 

Portia  buried  her  face  in  her  hands.  How 
could  she  live  if  he  did  not  return  !  There 
were  horses'  hoofs  on  the  driveway.  A  mo- 


The  Washingtonians  357 

ment  later  she  heard  her  husband's  step  on 
the  verandah. 

There  was  the  great  relief,  the  second  of 
blessed  thankfulness,  then  all  was  swept  aside 
in  the  wave  of  hope  that  confident  step  in- 
spired. Her  fears  had  been  groundless.  Her 
father  had  carried  the  convention  !  Her  pride, 
her  ambition,  the  future  looming  rich,  the  love 
of  power,  these  mingled  emotions  ran  through 
her  like  a  flame  of  glorified  life. 

Her  eager  fingers  could  scarcely  open  the 
door.  She  ran  out  and  met  him. 

Matthews  held  her  tightly  in  the  rain  that 
beat  about  them.  Against  his  own  he  felt  the 
wild  beating  of  her  heart,  and  in  the  misty 
yellow  light  of  the  lantern  he  could  see  her 
face  white  and  luminous. 

"  You  must  tell  your  father,"  he  said,  "  for 
I  cannot.  Ohio  has  declared  herself  for  the 
President." 


THE     END. 


NEW    FICTION 


My  Strangest  Case 

BY   GUY   BOOTHBY 

AUTHOR    OF    "  DOCTOR    NICCOLA,"    "  THAT 
BEAUTIFUL    WHITE    DEVIL,"    ETC. 

With  a  frontispiece  by  L.  J.  Bridgman 
Cloth,  $1.50 


This  is  in  many  ways  the  strongest  and  most  interest- 
ing novel  as  yet  written  by  this  popular  author.  As  the 
title  indicates,  "  My  Strangest  Case "  is  a  detective 
story,  a  new  departure  in  the  field  of  literature  for  Mr. 
Boothby.  It  has  to  do  with  buried  treasures  stolen  from 
the  ruined  palaces  of  a  forgotten  city  in  China  by  three 
adventurers,  one  of  whom  tricks  his  partners  and  escapes 
with  the  hard-won  spoils.  From  the  East  the  scene 
shifts  to  London,  Paris,  and  Italy,  in  the  endeavor  by 
the  hero  (the  detective)  to  track  the  principal  adventurer 
and  restore  to  the  latter's  partners  their  portion  of  the 
stolen  treasure.  The  hero  proves  himself  to  be  a  sec- 
ond Sherlock  Holmes  in  acumen  and  sang-froid;  and 
the  story  holds  one's  interest  to  the  last. 

SEND    FOR    CIRCULARS,    CATALOGUES,   ETC. 


NEW    FICTION 


Page's 
Commonwealth    Series 

Literary  growth  in  America  has  been  of  late  years  as 
rapid  as  its  material  and  economical  progress.  The  vast  size 
of  the  country,  the  climatic  and  moral  conditions  of  its  differ- 
ent parts,  and  the  separate  political  and  social  elements,  have 
all  tended  to  create  distinct  methods  of  literary  expression  in 
various  sections.  In  offering  from  <dme  to  time  the  books 
in  the  "  COMMONWEALTH  SERIES,"  we  shall  select  a  novel  or 
story  descriptive  of  the  methods  of  thought  and  life  of  that 
particular  section  of  the  country  which  each  author  repre- 
sents. We  believe  the  series  will  be  of  permanent  value  as 
a  record  in  a  degree  of  American  life. 

The  success  attending  "  Her  Boston  Experiences,"  a 
story  typical  of  a  certain  phase  of  Massachusetts  life,  and 
the  first  of  this  series,  has  made  it  evident  that  the  venture 
is  appreciated,  and  it  is  confidently  expected  that  the  addi- 
tions to  the  series  will  meet  with  equal  favor.  The  elegance 
of  paper,  presswork,  and  binding,  and  the  lavish  and  artistic 
illustrations,  as  well  as  the  convenient  size,  add  not  a  little 
to  the  attractiveness  of  the  volumes. 

Each  I  vol.,  large  i6mo,  cloth,  gilt  top,  profusely  illustrated, 
$1.25. 

& 

Published  in  Nineteen  Hundred 
No.  i.     (Massachusetts) 

Her   Boston    Experiences 

Seventh  edition.     By  ANNA  FARQUHAR  (MARGARET 
ALLSTON). 

"  The  first  book  for  Bostonians  to  read  on  returning  to 
their  homes  this  fall  is  '  Her  Boston  Experiences.'  It  will 
do  them  good."  —  The  Literary  World. 

"The  book  is  really  enormously  clever."  —  Boston  Times. 


SEND    FOR    CIRCULARS,    CATALOGUES,    ETC. 


NEW    FICTION 


Page's  Commonwealth  Series  —  Continued 

New   Volumes  for  Nineteen  Hundred  and  One 

No.  2.     (Virginia) 

A   Sunny   Southerner 

By  JULIA   MAGRUDER,   author  of  "  A  Magnificent 
Plebeian,"  "The  Princess  Sonia,"  etc. 
A  charming  love  story,  the  scene  of  which  is  laid  in  the 
Virginia  of  to-day.     The  plot  revolves  about  two  principal 
characters,  a  Southern   heroine   and  a  Northern  hero;  and 
the  story  is  written  in  the  author's  usual  clever  style. 

No.  3.     (Maine) 

Lias's   Wife 

By  MARTHA  BAKER   DUNN,   author  of  "  Memory 

Street,"  etc. 

There  is  the  direct  appeal  of  a  story  that  has  been  really 
lived  in  this  charming  novel  of  Maine  life.  One  essential 
merit  of  the  book  is  its  reproduction  of  the  genuine  New 
England  atmosphere,  with  innumerable  idioms  quaintly 
delightful  to  encounter.  The  humor  is  pervasive  and  deli- 
cate, the  pathetic  touches  equally  effective.  In  short,  one 
might  search  far  for  a  more  attractive  tale  than  this  romance 
of  homely  American  life.  The  many  admirers  of  "  Memory 
Street "  will  read  "  The  Queen  of  the  Shifting  Sands,"  with 
even  greater  delight. 

No.  4.      (District  of  Columbia) 

Her  Washington   Experiences 

By    ANNA    FARQUHAR,    author    of   "The    Devil's 

Plough,"  etc. 

There  will  be  no  brighter  book  published  this  season  than 
"  Her  Washington  Experiences."  The  Cabinet  member's 
wife,  through  whose  eyes  we  are  given  a  glimpse  into  Wash- 
ington society,  has  a  vision  delightfully  true  and  clear ;  her 
impressions  of  the  city  as  a  whole,  compared  in  character 
with  other  places,  are  well  worth  reading  for  their  epigram- 
matic brilliancv  and  apt  contrasts. 


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NEW    FICTION 


The  Love  Letters  of  an 
American  Girl 

BY    A    WELL-KNOWN    WRITER 

Illustrated  with  ten  black  and  white  drawings 
Cloth,  $1.50 


The  author  has  herein  given  a  strong  and  beautiful  love 
theme  in  the  form  of  the  correspondence  of  an  American 
girl.  We  follow  her  on  a  trip  abroad,  filled  with  numerous 
flirtations,  terminating  with  an  episode  in  which  figures  no 
less  a  personage  than  the  present  Crown  Prince  of  one  of 
the  states  of  Southern  Europe,  who  falls  madly  in  love  with 
her.  But  our  heroine  is  not  li*  ;  the  conventional  American 
girl  abroad.  There  is  no  mar'iage  with  rank  or  title;  she 
returns  to  her  own  land  to  wed  ;  and  the  book  ends  with  an 
after-marriage  love  letter,  which  is  perhaps  the  most  charm- 
ing of  the  collection.  It  is  a  happy  coincidence  that  this 
interesting  love  tale  should  have  been  prepared  in  the  form 
of  a  collection  of  love  letters,  as  there  has  been  great  demand 
for  'similar  collections,  such  as  "  An  Englishwoman's  Love 
Letters,"  "  The  Visits  of  Elizabeth,"  etc. 

We  are  not  at  liberty  at  this  time  to  announce  the  name 
of  the  author,  who  is,  however,  well  known  in  this  country. 

A  further  point  of  interest  will  be  the  numerous  illustra- 
tions in  black  and  white  by  a  prominent  artist,  a  new  depart- 
ure for  this  class  of  literature. 


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NEW    FICTION 


She  Stands  Alone 

BEING    THE    STORY    OF    PILATE'S    WIFE 

BY  MARK   ASHTON 

AUTHOR  OF  "  THE  NANA*S  TALISMAN," 
"  HAGGITH  SHY,"  ETC. 

I2mo,  cloth  decorative,  gilt  top,  with  12  full-page  plates, 
#1-50 

«* 

Few  novels  of  the  present  day  can  stand  comparison 
with  this  remarkable  book,  which  must  be  ranked  in 
modern  literature  dealing  with  the  early  Christian  era  as 
only  second  to  "Ben  Hur."  Its  power,  its  beauty, 
and  above  all  its  deep  earnestness  of  purpose  and  won- 
derful life  and  vitality,  mark  it  at  once  as  a  masterpiece. 
Mr.  Ashton  has  succeeded  in  avoiding  the  faults  which 
have  been  common  in  practically  all  the  recent  novels 
based  on  the  religio-historical  theme  —  vulgarity  and 
sensationalism.  "She  Stands  Alone,"  while  rapid  in 
movement  and  intensely  dramatic  in  plot,  is  pure  and 
noble  in  every  incident.  The  reader  will  be  charmed  by 
its  dignity  and  power,  as  well  as  by  its  dramatic  inci- 
dents and  vivid  portrayals  of  those  wonderful  early 
Christians  whose  faith  and  self-sacrifice  have  been  the 
theme  of  countless  writers  throughout  the  ages. 

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NEW    FICTION 


The  Devil's  Plough 

BY   ANNA   FARQUHAR 

AUTHOR     OF     "  HER     BOSTON     EXPERIENCES  " 

With  colored  frontispiece  by 

Frank    T.    Merrill 
Decorative  cloth,  library  i2mo.     Price,  $1.50 

J* 
" A  priest  is  but  a  man  after  all." 

—  Father  U  Artanges. 

"The  tale  is  powerful.      There  is  no  lack  of  inci- 
dent, and  the  style  of  the  author  is  carefully  adapted  to 
the  style  of  her  characters."  —  Portland  Transcript. 

"The  story  is  exceedingly  interesting,  the  various 
scenes  are  drawn  with  great  vigor." 

—  Cambridge  Tribune. 

"  One  of  the  strongest  novels  of  the  season.  There 
is  hardly  anything  in  recent  fiction  more  original  than 
the  tone  and  incident  of  this  fascinating  book,  which 
deals  so  capably  with  the  most  powerful  human  emo- 
tions."—  Buffalo  Courier. 

"  The  priest  is  a  splendid  character,  blessed  or  cursed 
—  as  the  tide  might  draw  him  —  with  a  dual  nature. 
There  is  a  tremendous  struggle,  which  the  author  works 
out  with  well-sustained  skill."  —  The  Book  Buyer. 

"Masterly  in  its  dramatic  power  is  the  portrayal  of 
the  parting  between  Gaston  and  Heloise,  when  he  has 
conquered  the  flesh  and  the  devil  and  sets  out  on  his 
journey  to  the  wilderness."  — Nashville  American. 

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NEW    FICTION 


Antonia 

A    TALE    OF    COLONIAL    NEW    YORK 

BY    JESSIE   VAN   ZILE    BELDEN 

Beautifully  illustrated  by  Jmy  M.  Sacker 
Library  I2mo,  cloth.     Price,  $1.50 

Jk 

The  Philadelphia  North  American  says: 
"  A  charming  and  graceful  romance,  '  Antonia  '  is  in 
some  respects  an  unusual  story.  Not  that  it  is  preten- 
tious ;  rather  because  it  is  not  so,  but  fresh  and  simple 
instead.  Here  is  a  story  of  colonial  times  which,  instead 
of  being  filled  with  the  mincing  archaisms  and  strutting 
pomposities  of  the  usual  historical  novel,  has  caught 
something  of  the  spirit  of  wide-eyed  wonder  that  held 
men  spellbound  at  the  tales  of  this  new  world  when  it 
was  indeed  new  and  marvellous  —  of  the  longing  for 
freedom  that  drove  them  bevond  seas  and  into  the  savage 
West,  there  to  carve  out  new  realms  from  the  shaggy 
wilderness.  '  The  Frisians  shall  be  free  as  long  as  the 
wind  shall  blow  in  the  clouds  and  as  long  as  the  world 
shall  endure'  is  the  keynote  of  the  story;  for  its  scene  is 
New  Amsterdam  and  its  characters  the  sturdy  Frisians 
of  that  colony.  The  hero  is  one  of  the  errant  adven- 
turers from  the  Lowlands  ;  and  the  account  of  his  love 
for  the  wilful  Antonia,  as  difficult  and  capricious  as  she  is 
charming,  and  his  slow  winning  of  her  through  the  tangle 
of  misunderstandings  and  adventures  that  beset  him,  makes 
a  story  of  vivid  and  unhackneyed  interest.  In  short, 
'  Antonia '  is  romance  of  the  kind  that  it  is  a  delight  to 
find." 

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NEW    FICTION 


The  Autobiography   of 
a  Charwoman 

AS     CHRONICLED     BY 

ANNIE    WAREMAN 

With  six  drawings  by  "Rip" 
I2mo,  cloth  decorative,  $1.50 


This  is  —  we  say  it  unhesitatingly  —  a  unique  book.  To 
choose  so  humble  a  heroine  as  Betty  Dobbs,  a  charwoman, 
as  our  British  cousins  designate  a  scrubwoman,  or  servant-of- 
all-work,  requires  no  little  courage  on  the  part  of  the  author. 
But  the  book  is  a  triumph  of  literary  skill.  It  is  full  of 
human  nature,  and  pulsates  with  life.  In  combined  pathos 
and  humor  the  character  of  Betty  Dobbs  affects  the  best 
traits  in  the  reader's  nature  with  a  strong  and  lasting  appeal. 

"  The  Autobiography  of  a  Charwoman  "  created  a  distinct 
furor  in  literary  circles  in  England,  and  we  unhesitatingly 
prophesy  for  it  an  equal  success  in  America.  We  append  a 
single  extract  from  one  of  the  many  English  reviews.  It 
describes  the  character  of  Betty. 

"  She  has  hidden  no  fault  —  about  her  virtues  alone  is  she 
reticent,  perhaps  not  knowing  them.  .  .  .  Read  her  life  and 
deny,  if  you  dare,  that  this  was  heroic.  Her  maternity  had 
no  thought  of  self.  She  loved  her  children,  slaved  for  them, 
went  hungry  that  they  might  eat.  She  had  boundless  pity 
for  all  things  helpless  —  animal  or  human.  She  was  a  sunny 
optimist,  and  her  brave  courage  never  flagged.  She  delighted 
in  music.  .  .  .  She  loved  flowers,  and  they  bloomed  in  her 
window  often  when  the  larder  was  empty.  She  was  persist- 
ently industrious.  .  .  .  Her  voice  was  as  soft  as  the  cooing 
of  a  dove.  .  .  .  There  was  great  dignity  in  this  Gentlewoman 
of  the  Slums." 


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NEW    FICTION 


Captain  Ravenshaw 

BY  ROBERT  NEILSON   STEPHENS 

AUTHOR    OF    "PHILIP    WINWOOD,"    "  AN 
ENEMY    TO    THE    KING,"    ETC.,    ETC. 

Beautifully  illustrated 
I2mos  cloth,  $1.50 


Not  since  the  absorbing  adventures  of  D'Artagnan 
have  we  had  anything  so  good  in  the  blended  vein  of 
romance  and  comedy.  Mr.  Stephens  in  his  latest  novel 
has  given  us  a  tale  to  gratify  the  taste  of  his  most  ardent 
admirers.  The  background  of  Elizabethan  London,  with 
its  narrow  streets  and  dark  houses,  gives  excellent  scope 
for  deeds  of  enterprise  and  of  worth.  The  beggar 
student,  the  rich  goldsmith,  the  roisterer  and  the  rake, 
the  fop  and  the  maid,  are  all  here  :  foremost  among 
them,  Captain  Ravenshaw  himself,  soldier  of  fortune  and 
adventurer,  who,  after  escapades  of  binding  interest, 
finally  wins  a  way  to  fame  and  to  matrimony.  The 
rescue  of  a  maid  from  the  designs  of  an  unscrupulous 
father  and  rakish  lord  forms  the  principal  and  underlying 
theme,  around  which  incidents  group  themselves  with 
sufficient  rapidity  to  hold  one's  attention  spellbound. 
"Captain  Ravenshaw"  is  sure  to  find  favor  with  the 
public,  for  in  incident,  plot,  and  design  the  author  has 
sustained,  if  he  has  not  advanced,  the  excellence  of 
workmanship  which  distinguishes  his  earlier  romances. 


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NEW    FICTION 


Sunny  Southerner 

BY   JULIA    MAGRUDER 

AUTHOR  OF  "THE  PRINCESS  OF  SONIA,"  "A 
MAGNIFICENT  PLEBEIAN,"  ETC.,  ETC. 

Profusely  illustrated 
Large  i6mo,  cloth,  $1.25 


A  charming  love  story,  the  scene  of  which  is  laid  for 
the  most  part  in  Virginia,  although  it  later  shifts  to 
Philadelphia  and  New  York.  The  plot  revolves  about 
two  principal  characters,  a  Southern  heroine  and  a 
Northern  hero  ;  and  the  story  is  written  in  Miss  Ma- 
gruder's  usual  clever  style. 

This  book  is  uniform  in  appearance  and  attractiveness 
with  "Her  Boston  Experiences,"  and,  like  "Her 
Boston  Experiences,"  "A  Sunny  Southerner"  also 
ran  serially  in  the  Ladies'  Home  Journal. 

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NEW  FICTION 


Her  Washington 
Experiences 

BY   ANNA   FARQUHAR 

AUTHOR  OF  "THE  DEVIL'S  PLOUGH,"  "HER 
BOSTON  EXPERIENCES,"  ETC. 

Fully  illustrated 
Large  i6mo,  cloth,  #1.25 


There  will  be  no  brighter  book  published  this  season 
than  "Her  Washington  Experiences."  The  Cabinet 
member's  wife,  through  whose  eyes  we  are  given  a 
glimpse  into  Washington  society,  has  a  vision  delight- 
fully true  and  clear  ;  her  impressions  of  the  city  as  a 
whole,  compared  in  character  with  other  places,  are  well 
worth  reading  for  their  epigrammatic  brilliancy  and  apt 
contrasts.  There  is  a  slender  vein  of  love  story  running 
through  the  book  ;  as  pretty  romance,  as  delicate  good- 
natured  satire,  as  clever  characterization  and  graphic 
descriptive  writing,  one  does  not  often  find  anything 
more  satisfying. 

SEND    FOR   CIRCULARS,   CATALOGUES,   ETC. 


NEW    FICTION 


Her    Boston    Experiences 

BY   ANNA   FARQUHAR 

AUTHOR  OF  "THE  DEVIL'S  PLOUGH,"  "HER 
WASHINGTON  EXPERIENCES,"  ETC. 

Beautifully  illustrated 
Cloth,  large  i6mo,  $1.25 


"This  bright  novel,  by  Margaret  Allston,  ought  to 
make  a  hit  in  this  region,  at  any  rate.  The  author 
knows  her  Boston  well,  and  no  fear  of  seeming  trifle 
with  local  sanctities  has  deterred  her  from  amused  and 
amusing  comment.  She  satirizes  its  tendency  to  adopt 
fads  and  run  after  strange  theories,  stranger  heroes,  and 
gods  strangest  of  all.  But  she  is  also  aware  of  its 
wholesome,  reverent,  practical  philanthropic  and  religious 
earnestness.  She  must  have  enjoyed  writing  the  story  as 
much  as  her  readers  are  sure  to  enjoy  reading  it." 

—  The  Congregationalist. 

"  Whoever  *  Margaret  Allston  '  may  be,  she  has 
drawn  a  capital  picture  of  modern  society  and  people  in 
'  Her  Boston  Experiences.'  It  is  an  uncommonly  clever 
book,  —  full  of  sensible  wit,  courteous  sarcasm,  and  neat 
literary  turns."  —  Boston  Times. 

"  Those  who  know  Boston  well  will  appreciate  and 
enjoy  this  clever  characterization,  and  those  who  do  not 
will  get  a  very  illuminating  glimpse  of  the  most  individual 
of  American  cities."  —  The  Commercial  Advertiser. 


SEND    FOR   CIRCULARS,   CATALOGUES,   ETC. 


NEW  FICTION 


Arline  Valere 

BY  JOSEPH    HALLWORTH 

Being  a  fac-simile  of  manuscript,   with  pen  sketches  by 

the  author 
Large  I2mo.     Price,  $  1.50 

J* 
The  Boston    Transcript  says: 

"Mr.  Hallworth's  book  is  a  story  of  modern  New 
York,  and  of  people  who  have  wandered  from  the  dull 
and  comfortable  plenty  of  burgher  days,  when  those 
who  had  not  might  ask  and  receive  at  the  hearths  of 
great  houses.  Mr.  Hallworth  writes  of  the  slum- 
dwellers  with  a  searching,  intimate  pen,  not  shrinking 
from  the  painful  chapters,  but  striving  to  capture  every 
saving  glint  of  humor.  The  author,  who  is  artist  as 
well,  has  helped  out  his  text  with  over  one  hundred 
pen-and-ink  sketches,  which  the  publishers  have  used 
as  marginal  illustrations,  reproducing  the  manuscript  as 
it  came  from  the  author,  text  and  sketches  line  for  line. 
A  well-known  critic,  who  has  already  seen  the  story, 
writes:  "'Arline  Valere"  is  in  every  respect  the  pro- 
duction of  an  artist.  While  Dickens  is  suggested,  it  is 
not  because  of  any  imitation,  as  the  figures  in  the  tale  are 
without  exception  original.'  ' 

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NEW   FICTION 


Manasseh 

BY    MAURUS    JOKAI 

AUTHOR     OF    "BLACK     DIAMONDS,"    "THE 

BARON'S  SONS,"  "  PRETTY  MICHAL," 

ETC.,  ETC. 

Translated  into  English  by  Percy  F.   Bicknell.      Fully 
illustrated 

I2mo,  cloth,  $1.50 
J* 

An  absorbing  story  of  life  among  a  happy  and  primitive 
people  hidden  away  in  far  Transylvania,  whose  peaceful 
life  is  never  disturbed  except  by  the  inroads  of  their  tur- 
bulent neighbors.  The  opening  scenes  are  laid  in  Rome  ; 
and  the  view  of  the  corrupt,  intriguing  society  there  forms 
a  picturesque  contrast  to  the  scenes  of  pastoral  simplicity 
and  savage  border  warfare  that  succeed.  Mr.  Bicknell 
has  well  performed  the  difficult  task  of  losing  none  of  the 
power  of  the  original  work  in  translating. 

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NEW    FICTION 


THE 

Man  with   a   Country 

BY 
WILLIAM    E.  BARTON 

AUTHOR  OF  "A  HERO  IN  HOMESPUN,"  ETC. 

I2mo,  cloth  decorative,  $1.25 


This  generation  can  hardly  realize  the  intensity  of 
painful  interest,  the  almost  personal  grief,  not  to  be  reas- 
sured or  pacified  by  repeated  statements  that  its  object 
was  pure  fiction,  which  the  public  of  that  day  felt  in  the 
sad  fate  of  the  "Man  without  a  Country."  Doctor 
Hale's  introduction  to  the  present  volume  is  perhaps  a 
peace- offering  to  the  shade  of  the  unhappy  Philip  Nolan. 
As  the  title  indicates,  "  The  Man  with  a  Country  "  is  a 
story  of  happier  issue  than  its  tragic  predecessor  ;  but  the 
note  of  patriotism  is  struck  no  less  clearly,  and  cannot 
fail  to  find  the  chord  as  responsive  as  before.  This  is  a 
story  for  the  times,  and  will  find  its  public  prepared  to 
receive  its  message. 

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NEW   FICTION 


Memory    Street 

BY    MARTHA    BAKER    DUNN 

A  MOST  CHARMING  NEW  ENGLAND  STORY 

Illustrated 
Cloth,  i2mo,  $1.25 


"The  literary  style  of  the  volume  is  excellent." 

—  N.  T.  Times  Saturday  Review. 
"A  book   to   be   devoured  by  the  average  reader  is 
«  Memory  Street.'  "  —  Living  Age. 

One  of  the  best  New  England  stories  written  in  a 
long  time."  —  Congregationalist. 

"The  book  is  charming  in  its  simplicity." 

—  S.  F.  Chronicle. 

"  A  story  of  life,  without  egotism,  so  sweetly  and 
tenderly  told  as  to  play  at  the  heart-strings  which  have 
not  been  swept  on  memory's  lyre  for  years." 

—  St.  Paul  Globe. 


PUBLISHERS'   NOTE 

In  offering  this  book  to  the  reading  public,  the  pub- 
lishers have  no  hesitation  in  recommending  it  to  all 
interested  in  New  England  life.  It  has  repeatedly  been 
classed  with  the  work  of  such  well-known  "  New  Eng- 
land writers  "  as  Miss  Wilkins,  Miss  Jewett,  and  Miss 
Alice  Brown. 


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NEW    FICTION 


The  Corsair  King 

A   TALE    OF   THE    BUCCANEERS 
BY    MAURUS   JOKAI 

AUTHOR    OF  "BLACK  DIAMONDS,"   "THE 
BARON'S    SONS,"    ETC. 

Large  i6mo,  cloth,  $1.00 

The  Buccaneer  adventures  are  very  stirring.  The  love- 
story  is  a  thread  of  beauty  and  delicacy,  woven  in  and 
out  a  few  times  in  the  coarser  woof  of  this  rough  sea 
atmosphere.  One  leaves  the  book  with  the  sense  that 
he  has  actually  been  for  awhile  in  the  midst  of  a  corsair's 
life  of  the  olden  time,  —  felt  its  fascinations  and  found 
its  retributions. 

A  Daughter  of  Mystery 

BY  R.  NORMAN    SILVER 

I2mo,  cloth,  with  photogravure  portrait,  $1.50 

"A  Daughter  of  Mystery"  is  filled  with  breathless 
incidents  and  climaxes,  and  well  supplies  the  never  end- 
ing demand  for  a  good  detective  story.  The  heroine  is 
apparently  a  poor  girl,  whose  unscrupulous  step-uncle 
plots  to  prevent  her  coming  into  possession  of  a  large  for- 
tune left  by  her  father.  The  situations  in  the  book  are 
novel  and  remarkably  well  handled. 

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NEW    FICTION 


NOVELS    OF 

Sydney  C.   Grier 

Including,  "Like  Another  Helen,"   "The  Warden   of  the 
Marches." 

Uniform  edition 

AS    FOLLOWS  : 

The  Warden  of  the  Marches 

Like  Another  Helen 

Peace  with  Honour 

An  Uncrowned  King 

His  Excellency's  English  Governess 

Kings  of  the  East 

A  Crowned  Queen 

In  Furthest  Ind 

Each  vol.,  library  i2mo,  cloth,  flat  back,  paper  label,  $1.00 
The  complete  set  of  eight  vols.,  boxed,  $8.00 


It  is  somewhat  surprising  that  the  works  of  this  well- 
known  and  successful  English  novelist  have — with  but  one 
exception  —  never  been  presented  in  an  American  edition. 
The  first  volume  was  published  in  England  (by  Messrs. 
Black  wood)  in  1894,  and  Mr.  Grier  has  added  one  volume 
each  year  to  his  list  of  publications.  The  books  have  met 
with  a  steadily  increasing  favor,  each  passing  through  sev- 
eral editions.  The  coincidence  in  the  choice  of  the  same 
title  as  one  of  Mr.  Grier's  novels,  nearly  a  year  after  the  pub- 
lication of  the  English  book,  by  an  American  writer  for  a 
widely  dissimilar  but  equally  popular  novel  is  not  uninterest- 
ing. 


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NEW    FICTION 


Back  to  the  Soil 

BY  BRADLEY    OILMAN 

AUTHOR  OF  "THE  DRIFTING    ISLAND,"  ETC. 

WITH  AN  INTRODUCTION 
BY   EDWARD    EVERETT   HALE 

Library  I2mo,  cloth  decorative,  $1.25 


In  his  interesting  story,  "Back  to  the  Soil,"  Mr. 
Gilman  suggests  a  practical  solution  of  an  angular  prob- 
lem in  sociology  by  the  application  of  the  circular  prin- 
ciples of  association.  One  of  the  most  acute  angles  in 
the  problem  of  the  city's  inefficient  poor  is  that  defined 
by  the  old  woman,  who,  when  asked  why  she  preferred 
to  starve  in  the  city  rather  than  live  at  ease  in  the  coun- 
try, replied  laconically,  "  Paples  is  more  coompany  than 
sthoomps."  "Back  to  the  Soil"  is  so  presented  as  to 
be  of  great  interest  to  the  casual  reader,  and,  at  the 
same  time,  offers  a  carefully  considered  plan,  deserving 
the  attention  of  the  social  worker. 


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NEW    FICTION 


Jarvis  of  Harvard 

* 
REGINALD  WRIGHT  KAUFFMAN 


Library  I2mo,  cloth  decorative,  $1.50 
Illustrated  £y  Robert  Edwards 


A  strong  and  well-written  novel,  true  to  a  certain 
side  of  the  college  atmosphere,  not  only  in  the  details  of 
athletic  life,  but  in  the  spirit  of  college  social  and  society 
circles.  The  local  color  appeals  not  only  to  Harvard 
men,  but  to  their  rivals,  the  loyal  sons  of  Yale,  Penn- 
sylvania, and  Princeton.  Mr.  Kauffman  is  also  especially 
tt  home  in  his  descriptions  of  the  society  doings  of  the 
smart  set  in  Philadelphia. 

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NEW    FICTION 


Tales  from  Tolstoi 


Translated  from  the   Russian,   with    Biography   of  the 
Author 

BY 
R.    NISBET  BAIN 

Cloth,  with  photogravure  portrait,  $1.50 


The  peculiar  influence  that  Tolstoi's  personality  has 
come  to  exert  upon  numbers  outside  his  own  country 
gives  to  everything  from  his  pen  an  interest  beyond  that 
excited  by  its  great  literary  power.  There  is  hardly 
another  foreign  author  from  whom  the  appearance  of  a 
new  book  is  in  itself  an  event  of  such  moment.  This 
volume  of  stories,  taken  directly  by  a  well-known  Eng- 
lish translator  from  the  Russian,  instead  of  by  the  usual 
circuit  through  a  French  version,  appears  for  the  first 
time  in  this  language  and  country. 

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NEW    FICTION 


The  King's  Ring 

A  ROMANCE  OF  THE   DAYS  OF  GUSTAVUS 
ADOLPHUS    AND    THE    THIRTY    YEARS*    WAR 

Translated  from  tbt  Swedish  of  Zacbarias  Topelins 

BY  SOPHIE  OHRWALL  AND    HER- 
BERT  ARNOLD 

I2mo,  cloth,  with  photogravure  portrait  of  the  author,  $1.50 


"The  King's  Ring"  marks  a  new  departure  in 
American  publications.  For  the  first  time  an  author  of 
the  Swedish  romantic  school,  and  one  of  the  prominent 
European  writers  of  fiction,  is  introduced  to  our  reading 
public.  It  is  true  that  the  realm  of  historic  romance  has 
been  very  thoroughly  invaded  in  the  years  past.  One 
corner,  however,  has  not  been  entered,  and  this  the  trans- 
lators of  this  thoroughly  absorbing  tale  of  the  Lion  of  the 
North  have  done.  The  romance  has  already  taken  high 
rank  abroad  among  novels  of  historical  adventure,  and 
we  anticipate  the  same  success  for  it  among  American 
readers. 

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UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 

Los  Angeles 
This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below. 


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